^ 


i.  ev3.  ■'''■•■ 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


BY    THE    HEIRS    OF    THE    LATE 


professor  Dcnrg  Carrinaton  aiejanDcr,  B.©.,  atX.B. 

liof 


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Xk'-^"- 


j: 


MEMORIAL 


MARGARET  E.  BRECKINRIDGE, 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT    &    CO. 

1 8  G  5. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S65,  by 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT    &    CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Eastern 
District  of  Pennsylvania. 


OBITUARY    NOTICES. 


OBITUARY    NOTICES. 


From  the  Princeton  Standard. 

The  intelligence  received  to-day  of  the  death  of  Miss 
Margaret  E.  Breckinridge,  of  this  place,  who  died 
on  the  2tth  inst.  at  Niagara  Falls,  after  a  somewhat 
protracted  illness,  will  sadden  many  hearts  in  this  com- 
munity. Her  devotion  to  her  country,  since  the  rebel- 
lion broke  out,  has  cost  her  her  life.  From  her  expo- 
sure to  the  hardships  and  diseases  of  hospital  service, 
and  her  unceasing  labors  for  the  relief  of  our  sick  and 
wounded  soldiers,  her  health  became  so  impaired  that 
the  late  severe  trial  which  befell  her  in  the  death  of  her 
brother-in-law.  Col.  Peter  A.  Porter,  who  recently  fell 
at  the  head  of  his  regiment  in  Virginia,  reduced  her 
prostration  below  a  rallying  point. 

Miss  Breckinridge  was  a  daughter  of  the  late  Rev. 
Dr.  John  Breckinridge,  and  a  granddaughter  of  the  late 
Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Miller.     Like  her  father,  she  had  a 

1*  h) 


b  OBITUARY    NOTICES. 

magic  power  of  securing  warm  personal  friends  wliere- 
ever  she  went,  and  her  death  will  be  mourned  in  a  wide 
circle  of  kindred  and  friends  in  every  part  of  our  coun- 
try. She  was  a  young  woman  of  much  energy,  talent, 
and  intelligence  ;  and  if  her  extensive  correspondence 
during  the  last  three  years, — a  portion  of  which  was 
conducted  on  behalf  of  sick  soldiers  and  their  friends, 
and  is  filled  with  thrilling  incidents, — could  be  exam- 
ined, her  patriotic  and  Christian  labors  would  be  more 
highly  appreciated.  She  made  a  profession  of  rehgion 
when  quite  young,  and  died  calmly  in  a  full  assurance 
of  faith. 


From  the  Buffalo  Commercial  Advertiser. 

Ten  years  ago,  three  of  the  most  powerful  nations 
of  the  world  were  engaged — two  of  them  against  the 
third — in  deadly  conflict  in  a  territory  smaller  than 
several  of  the  States  in  the  American  Union.  Such 
was  the  nature  of  the  soil  and  the  moisture  of  the  cli- 
mate, and  especially  such  were  the  requirements  of 
military  routine  and  oflQcial  circumlocutions,  that  the 
sick  and  wounded  soldiers  of  the  Alhes  were  subject 
to  unnecessary  and  grievous  neglect  and  suffering.     So 


OBITUARY    NOTICES.  •? 

frightfully  true  was  this  at  the  commencement  of  the 
siege  of  Sebastopol,  that  the  poor  soldiers  preferred  the 
hardships  and  discomfort  of  the  trenches  and  the  camp 
to  the  horrors  of  the  hospital.  And  when  the  kindly 
heart,  quick  perception,  and  resolute  will  of  a  single 
woman,  cutting  the  knots  of  official  tape,  brought  order 
out  of  confusion,  system  out  of  chaos,  and  devoted  her- 
self with  the  zealous  tenderness  of  her  woman's  heart 
to  the  care  and  nursing  of  the  sick  and  wounded  sol- 
diers, she  was  hailed  as  an  angel  of  mercy,  and  her 
name  and  memory  were  at  once  canonized  in  the  Chris- 
tian heart  of  the  world. 

The  war  of  the  Allies  in  the  Crimea  had  its  single 
Florence  Nightingale.  The  war  of  the  United  States 
has  a  corps  of  them.  One  of  the  latter  has  just  fallen 
a  martyr  in  this  sacred  vocation.  Miss  Margaret  E. 
Breckinridge,  who  recently  died  at  Niagara  Falls, 
was  the  daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  John  Breckinridge, 
D.D.,  of  Kentucky.  Her  mother  was  a  daughter  of 
the  late  Rev.  Samuel  Miller,  D.D.,  of  Princeton,  N.J. 
Miss  Breckinridge  inherited  the  vigorous  intellect,  the 
quick  perception,  and  the  strong  religious  temperament 
for  which  the  family  has  long  been  distinguished.  Her 
physical  organization  was  slight  and  delicate  in  tlie  ex- 


8  OBITUARY    NOTICES. 

treme,  but  more  than  ordiuaiy  power  was  imparted  to 
it  by  a  strong  mind,  a  resolute  will,  and  a  dominant  and 
devoted  sense  of  duty.  Seldom  has  so  frail  a  casket 
contained  so  rich  a  gem. 

She  entered  the  hospital  service  on  the  Mississippi, 
in  Gen.  Grant's  department,  in  the  winter  of  1862. 
Possessing  a  fine  musical  talent  which  had  been  well 
cultivated,  a  comprehensive  and  tenacious  memory, 
and  being  famihar  from  the  years  of  her  earliest  in- 
struction with  the  sacred  truths  and  promises  of  the 
Bible,  she  soon  became  a  special  favorite  with  the 
hopelessly  sick,  the  wounded  and  dying  soldiers.  Min- 
istering both  to  their  physical  and  moral  wants,  when 
all  hope  of  restoring  the  suffering  body  had  perished, 
she  strove  to  rekindle  those  better  hopes  which  have 
their  fruition  beyond  the  grave.  She  repeated  and  ex- 
plained the  loving  invitations  and  comforting  promises 
of  her  divine  Master,  and  then,  in  the  touching  tones  of 
her  bird-like  voice,  sang  to  the  departing  spirit  those 
sacred  lyrics  which  had  been  familiar  to  all  of  them  in 
their  early  years,  and  to  many  of  them  through  all  the 
years  of  their  lives.  And  often  did  the  last  feeble 
pressure  of  the  hand  whose  strength  had  departed,  and 
the  last  serene  and  earnest  look  of  the  dying  soldier's 


OBITUARY    NOTICES.  9 

closing  eyes,  express  the  gratitude  which  his  tongue 
was  too  feeble  to  utter,  and  evince  the  consoling  assu- 
rances which  her  ministrations  had  brought  him.  To 
them  she  was  indeed  a  "ministering  spirit." 

It  was  in  the  lowlands  of  the  Mississippi  that  she 
was  first  attacked  with  one  of  those  obstinate  camp 
diseases  which  too  often  become  chronic.  Leaving 
the  department  of  the  Mississippi  in  order  to  recruit 
her  wasted  strength,  she  spent  several  months  with 
friends  at  the  East.  In  May  last,  she  entered  again 
upon  hospital  duty,  near  Philadelphia,  but  was  soon 
obliged  to  leave  her  post  by  an  attack  of  erysipelas. 
On  partially  recovering  from  this  she  came  to  Niagara 
for  the  twofold  purpose  of  sharing  the  sorrow  of  a 
relative  who  had  recently  been  sorely  afflicted  by  the 
death  of  an  only  brother  upon  the  field  of  battle,  and 
of  recruiting  her  own  health  and  strength  so  that  she 
might  return  again  to  her  labors  of  mercy. 

She  had  even  then  within  her  system  the  seeds  of 
that  fatal  typhoid  fever  peculiar  to  camps,  which  was 
soon  developed  in  all  its  strength,  and  of  which,  com- 
plicated with  other  difficulties,  she  died  on  Wednesday, 
July  27th. 

Her  letters  from   camps   and   hospitals,  and   while 


10  OBITUARY    NOTICES. 

absent  from  them  to  recruit  her  exhausted  powers, 
concerning  the  soldiers,  their  cares,  comforts,  and 
wants,  were  widely  read,  and  many  tearful  eyes  have 
testified  to  the  deep  sympathy  and  interest  which  they 
awakened. 

She  rests  from  her  labors,  and  her  works  have  fol- 
lowed her  to  that  better  land  where  neither  wars  nor 
wounds  nor  tears  nor  suffering  are  known. 

H. 

Niagara  Falls,  July  31,  1864. 


MEMORIAL 


MEMORIAL 


To  these  brief  notices,  which  first  brought  to 
many  hearts  the  sad  tidings  of  the  death  of  one 
who  was  loved  wherever  she  was  known,  we 
would  add  a  few  facts  and  a  few  scattered  remi- 
niscences which  have  been  gathered  from  various 
sources ;  and  out  of  all  these  we  w^ould  weave  a 
little  chaplet,  bearing  the  impress  of  her  charac- 
ter, to  add  its  tribute  of  affection  to  the  marble 
which  covers  the  resting-place  and  is  sacred  to 
the  memory  of  Margaret  Elizabeth  Breckin- 
ridge. 

She  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  March  24th, 
1832.  Through  both  her  parents  she  was  de- 
scended from  ancestors  who,  in  the  State  as  well 
as  in  the  Church,  had  labored  for  their  genera- 
tion and  left  an  impress  on  the  times  in  which 
they  lived.  Her  paternal  grandfather  was  John 
Breckinridge,  of  Kentucky,  who  in  1806  was 
taken   from   a  high    position   in   the  [t^ational 

2  (13) 


14      '  MEMORIAL   OF 

Senate  to  fill  tlie  office  of  Attorney-General  of 
tlie  United  States,  and  died  while  yet  a  young 
man,  soon  after  taking  liis  seat  in  the  Cabinet. 

Her  father,  the  Rev.  John  Breckinridge, 
D.D.,  was  his  second  son,  and  bore  his  name. 
He  was  educated  at  the  College  of  'New  Jersey, 
and  while  a  student  there,  and  looking  forward 
to  a  career  of  worldly  honor  and  distinction,  he 
became  interested  in  an  extensive  and  powerful 
revival  of  religion  which  occurred  in  that  Insti- 
tution in  the  year  1815,  and  which  gave  to  the 
church  man}^  who  have  since  been  standard- 
bearers  in  her  service.  He  was  among  those 
whose  aims  in  life  were  then  entirely  changed; 
and  he  may  truly  be  said  from  that  time  to  have 
consecrated  himself  to  the  service  of  God.  He 
studied  for  the  ministry  in  the  Theological  Sem- 
inary at  Princeton,  and  entered  the  church, 
combining  with  his  earnest  spirit  a  high  order 
of  talent.  In  every  situation  he  kept  in  view 
the  work  of  his  office,  and  made  it  honorable; 
and  though  he  passed  away  in  the  prime  of  his 
manhood,  his  memory  is  yet  fresh  in  many  hearts 
and  in  many  pulpits;  his  self-sacrificing  labors 
were  of  inestimable  value  to  the  church ;  and 
the  i:ecord  of  his  devoted  piety,  his  great  ability, 


MARGARET    E.   BRECKINRIDGE.  15 

and  rare  eloquence  is  a  priceless  legac}^  to  his 
family. 

He  had  heen  a  pastor  hotli  in  Lexington,  Ky., 
and  in  Baltimore;  and,  in  the  latter  city,  espe- 
cially, his  influence  can  hardly  be  estimated  as 
an  instrument  in  God's  hand  for  revivinc:  the 
churches  there,  and  calling  them  up  to  the  full 
measure  of  their  responsibility. 

In  the  year  1832,  above  mentioned,  Dr.  Breck- 
inridge was  one  of  the  Secretaries  of  the  Board 
of  Education  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and 
was  residing  in  Philadelphia,  whither  he  had  re- 
moved from  Baltimore  the  year  before,  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  summons  of  the  General  Assembly. 

In  1836,  he  was  elected  a  Professor  in  the 
Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  and  removed 
with  his.  family  to  that  place. 

Mrs.  Breckinridge  was  the  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Samuel  Miller,  of  Princeton,  who,  "being 
dead,  yetspeaketh"  to  the  church  through  those 
productions  of  his  pen  which  must  ever  be  his 
most  extensive  and  enduring  memorial. 

Through  her  mother,  Mrs.  Breckinridge  was 
descended  from  men  who  had  adorned  the  pulpit 
and  the  bar  of  i^ew  Jersey,  who  had  established 
her  seats  of  learning,   represented   hcrjn   the 


16  MEMORIAL   or 

National  councils,  and  liad  been  employed  in 
agencies  of  trust  during  the  eventful  times  of 
the  Revolution.  These  all  rest  from  their  la- 
bors, but  their  works  follow  them,  and  still 
benefit  the  State  in  which  they  lived. 

Margaret  E.  Breckinridge  was  deprived  of  her 
mother  at  the  age  of  six  years,  and  left  an  entire 
orphan  only  three  years  afterward ;  but  she  in- 
herited and  retained  through  life  much  that  was 
characteristic  of  both  her  parents.  Those  who 
had  been  intimate  with  them,  could  recognize  in 
her  many  of  those  graces  of  mind  and  heart 
which,  wherever  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Breckinridge  re- 
sided, drew  around  them  a  circle  of  warm  and 
lasting  friends.  Perhaps,  as  conducing  to  this, 
there  was  no  trait  of  their  character  more  strong- 
ly marked  than  that  feeling  of  common  brother- 
hood and  sympathy  which,  even  as  a  natural  in- 
stinct, is  so  much  stronger  in  some  than  in 
others,  and  which,  when  sanctified  and  regulated 
by  religion,  can  make  its  possessor  a  blessing  to 
the  world. 

The  subject  of  this  memoir  inherited  this 
quality  in  large  measure,  and  used  it  as  a  practi- 
cal power.  Wherever  she  could  bring  comfort 
to  the  afflicted,  relief  to  the  wearisome  hours  of 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  H 

sickness,  sympathy  to  the  home  sick  stranger,  or 
pleasure  to  the  social  circle,  she  hesitated  not  to 
sacrifice  her  time  and  convenience  to  the  willinp" 
performance  of  these  duties.     She  had,  indeed, 

'*A  heart  at  leisure  from  itself, 
To  soothe  and  sympathize." 

Some,  to  whom  she  thus  ministered,  have  gone 
before  her  to  another  world;  but  many  still  re- 
main whose  hearts  will  respond  to  the  mention 
of  these  kind  services  and  to  the  memories  which 
they  recall. 

From  the  time  of  her  mother's  death,  Marga- 
ret was  committed  to  the  care  of  her  grand- 
parents at  Princeton,  and  in  their  family  she 
grew  up  to  womanhood,  though  with  frequent 
and  long  absences ;  first  at  school,  and  afterward 
in  visiting  her  relatives  at  a  distance,  where  her 
stay  was  necessarily  protracted. 

The  ties  of  kindred  are  often  felt  the  most 
strongly  where  homes  have  been  desolated  and 
families  scattered.  The  heart  clings  to  the  bro- 
ken fragments  with  the  full  measure  of  its  aftec- 
tions.  It  Avas  so  in  the  case  of  this  orphan.  Of 
her  immediate  family  only  a  brother  and  two 
sisters  remained, — one  being  the  issue  of  a  sec- 
2* 


18  MEMORIAL   OP 

ond  marriage ;  and,  tliougli  much  separated  from 
them,  they  were  almost  her  idols.  Between  her- 
self and  her  sister,  Mary  Cabell,  the  warmest 
attachment  always  existed.  Until  the  death  of 
their  father,  they  both  resided  with  their  grand- 
parents ;  but,  after  that  event,  their  homes  were 
not  the  same,  and  a  frequent  interchange  of 
visits  was  made  doubly  pleasant,  and  seemed  to 
awaken  between  them  an  emulation  of  improye- 
ment,  which  could  not  but  be  salutary. 

Margaret's  school  years  were  principally  de- 
voted to  the  more  solid  branches  of  education, 
which  rapidly  developed  a  mind  fond  of  almost 
every  branch  of  study  and  quick  to  seize  upon  its 
fruits,  instead  of  resting,  like  too  many  young 
people,  in  the  mere  letter  of  mechanical  instruc- 
tion. .  E'either  did  her  education,  like  that  of 
many  others,  end  with  her  school.  Until  the 
time — more  than  three  years  before  her  death — 
when  her  heart  and  hands  became  absorbed  in 
work  for  her  country,  she  never  gave  up  her 
prescribed  plans  of  study,  but  continued  them, 
with  more  or  less  regularity,  through  all  the 
temporary  changes  of  her  residence.  It  is  true, 
that  these  frequent  and  long  absences  from  home 
were  not  favorable  to  her  advance  in  the  severer 


MARGARET   E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  10 

studies  which  she  at  first  undertook,  and  which, 
while  not  an  essential  part  of  female  education, 
are  ornaments  often  of  great  practical  value. 
But  for  her  improvement  in  the  lighter  hranches 
of  literature,  these  changes  were  not  unfavora- 
ble. Her  retentive  memory  safely  guarded  the 
fruit  plucked  from  many  a  stem  in  her  wander- 
ings; and  her  mind  became  a  store-house  where 
were  treasured  up  and  ready  to  be  used  or  to  be 
imparted,  facts  of  history,  individual  annals  of 
those  renowned  in  its  narrative,  as  well  as  much 
that  was  delightful  from  the  poetic  page  and 
from  the  painter's  historic  art. 

For  such  acquisitions,  and  for  forming  the 
tastes  which  lead  to  them,  she  had  unusual  ad- 
vantages among  the  friends  whom  she  visited; 
and  not  the  least  of  these  at  the  house  of  her 
brother-in-law, — Peter  A.  Porter,  of  Niagara 
Falls, — who,  long  endeared  to  the  sisters  as  a 
relative,  in  1852  became  the  husband  of  the 
older  one. 

!N"ow,  that  this  noble  patriot  has  poured  out  his 
life  upon  the  field  of  bloody  strife,  and  the  grave 
has  closed  over  him,  we  may  be  allowed  to  say 
what  he  was,  and  how  much  his  family,  his 
friends,  and  his  country  have  lost.     Descended 


20  MEMORIAL   OF 

from  those  who  had  been  honored  in  the  council- 
chamber  and  on  the  battle-field,  and,  having  en- 
joyed and  well  improved  the  best  advantages  for 
a  liberal  education,  both  in  his  own  country  and 
in  the  Universities  of  Germany,  he  returned  en- 
dowed with  varied  and  elegant  accomplishments 
to  his  home  at  IS'iagara, — that  spot  of  America 
whose  wonders  demand  a  visit  from  every  trav- 
eler. There  his  house  was  the  resort  of  literary 
and  scientific,  men  from  every  quarter,  at  the 
same  time  retaining  its  life-long  and  well-earned 
character  of  welcoming  the  poor  and  friendless 
to  its  charities  and  sympathies. 

It  was  in  such  a  home,  and  surrounded  by 
everything  that  could  make  this  life  happy,  and 
afford  pleasure  and  profit  to  the  friends  who 
surrounded  him,  that  the  call  of  his  country 
came  to  him,  and  he  hesitated  not  to  respond  to 
it.  Actuated,  not  by  a  wild  enthusiasm,  but  by 
a  conscientious  view  of  the  duty  which  men  of 
his  rank  owed  to  their  country  and  to  the  armies 
which  had  been  gathered  mainly  from  its  sturdy 
yeomanry,  and  were  pouring  out  their  blood  like 
water,  he  gathered  from  his  own  neighborhood 
a  regiment  of  young  men  who  were  willing  to 
go  under  the  leadership  of  one  so  much  trusted, 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  21 

and  led  tliem  forth  to  the  dangerous  service.  Xo 
after-temptatious  of  office  or  emolument  could 
induce  him  to  change  these  convictions  of  duty, 
or  forsake  those  who,  from  many  a  fireside,  had 
been  committed  to  his  care. 

"With  steady  pulse  and  deepening  eye, 
Where  bugles  call,"  he  said,  "  and  rifles  gleam, 
I  follow  though  I  die  ! " 

He  followed  and  died.  How  many  such  sacri- 
fices have  been  laid  upon  this  bloody  altar ! 

To  her  sister,  Mrs.  Porter,  Margaret  felt  that 
she  was  also  indebted  for  much  of  the  stimulus 
which  had  quickened  her  to  mental  life  and 
action.  Many  circumstances  had  combined  to 
lead  them  both  out  of  the  common  track  of 
aimless  existence,  and  to  give  them  a  high  value 
for  intellectual  attainment.  And  they  were  not 
without  the  talents  necessary  for  such  attain- 
ments. Especially  were  the  sisters  gifted  with 
more  than  ordinary  musical  abilities,  both  of 
voice  and  ear ;  and  Margaret  often  regretted  that 
this  valuable  accomplishment  had  not  been  more 
fully  recognized  in  her  education.  Probably, 
however,  no  one  regretted  this  except  herself,  at 
least  with  regard  to  her  vocal  acquirements.    She 


22  MEMORIAL   OF 

had  received  sufficient  instruction  to  give  an 
impetus  to  her  natural  talents,  and  to  refine 
and  polish  the  exuberance  of  nature,  and  not 
enough,  as  it  is  too  often  conducted,  to  warp  and 
fetter  the  deep  music  of  the  heart.  She,  as  well 
as  her  sister,  was  remarkable  for  the  simplicity 
and  feeling  of  her  execution;  and  they  were 
often  eagerly  listened  to  by  those  who  turned 
carelessly  from  more  artistic  performances.  And, 
especially  in  later  years,  when  her  voice  was  so 
often  employed  in  singing  to  the  sick  and  dying 
soldier  the  hymns  of  his  childhood,  or  those 
"songs  of  faith  and  hope"  which  soothe  and 
comfort  the  heart,  and  sometimes  carry  the  sound 
of  the  Gospel  to  ears  that  would  be  shut  against 
a  more  formal  approach, — it  was  then  that  the 
simplicity  and  deep  feeling  of  her  voice  met  their 
full  reward. 

Miss  Breckinridge  was  early  accustomed  to  the 
free  use  of  her  pen,  both  in  letter-writing  and 
in  miscellaneous  composition;  most  of  which, 
however,  was  strictly  private.  Her  -frequent 
separations  from  her  sister  and  brother  had  led 
to  a  regular  correspondence  with  them ;  and  with 
many  of  her  school-companions  she  maintained 
an  intercourse  of  this  kind  for  a  number  of  years, 


MARGARET    E    BRECKINRIDGE.  23 

until  it  was  superseded  by  more  immediate 
claims  upon  her  time.  This  constant  practice 
gave  her  an  easy  style;  and,  though  she  never 
claimed  the  merit  of  authorship,  her  pen  was 
ready  for  any  occasion  when  it  could  incite  to 
useful  action  or  gratify  the  wishes  of  friends. 
Of  late  years  it  was  employed  almost  entirely  in 
the  same  service  which  absorbed  her  whole 
mind.  She  wrote  many  letters  and  newspaper 
paragraphs  with  regard  to  the  pressing  wants  of 
the  soldiers,  and  the  duties  and  capabilities  of 
American  women  in  those  critical  times, — then 
more  critical  than  ever  afterwards.  These  were 
circulated  more  or  less  widely,  and  are  known  to 
have  excited  in  many  neighborhoods  a  practical 
and  enlightened  interest  for  the  country  and  its 
brave  defenders,  which  resulted  in  a  liberal  and 
continued  effort  for  the  su.pply  of  their  wants. 

It  was  not  until  the  year  1850  that  Miss 
Breckinridge  made  a  public  profession  of  reli- 
gion. From  her  earliest  years  she  had  been 
faithfully  trained  in  the  word  and  doctrine,  by 
parents  and  grandparents,  who  lived  as  well  as 
died  in  the  faith,  and  all  the  blessings  of  the 
covenant  were  hers,  by  what  may  truly  be  called 
a  divine  risiht.     It  is  not  known,  however,  that 


24  MEMORIAL   OF 

before  this  time  she  experienced  anything  more 
than  the  usual  serious  but  often  transitory  im- 
pressions which  can  hardly  fail  to  accompany 
such  a  training. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1850,  a  few 
months  before  she  united  herself  with  the  church, 
her  grandfather,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Miller,  was  taken 
from  his  family,  and  from  the  church  which  he 
had  so  long  served.  His  strength  had  failed 
gradually  through  many  weeks  of  tedious  con- 
finement, and  this  granddaughter  had  shared 
with  other  members  of  the  family  the  duty  and 
the  privilege  of  reading  to  him  during  many  of 
the  wearisome  hours  of  sickness.  She  ascribed 
to  this  reading,  which  always  began  with  the 
Bible  and  was  mingled  with  many  remarks  and 
words  of  exhortation  from  him,  much  of  her 
more  permanent  religious  impression,  and  she 
ever  remembered  these  seasons  with  gratitude 
and  tender  interest. 

She  also  acquired,  under  the  tuition  of  her 
faithful  and  excellent  grandmother-,  from  ex- 
ample as  well  as  from  precept,  a  habit  which 
remained  with  her  through  life,  and  which  is  as 
essential  to  the  Christian's  growth  as  is  a  regular 
supply  of  food  to  the  body.     She  had  a  stated 


MARGxVRET   E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  25 

time  set  apart  every  day  for  the  devotional  and 
prayerful  reading  of  the  Scriptures.  More  than 
an  hour  was  thus  spent ;  and  every  year  she  felt 
more  and  more  how  essential  was  this  daily  in- 
tercourse with  things  unseen,  this  fixing  of  the 
■anchor  within  the  veil ;  how  essential  to  the  com- 
fort as  well  as  to  the  growth  of  the  Christian. 
And  she  may  truly  he  said  to  have  enjoyed  her 
religion,  and  to  have  realized  her  Saviour  as  her 
friend  and  companion. 

It  was  during  a  revival  of  religion  which  oc- 
curred in  the  spring  of  1850,  when  more  than 
seventy  persons  united  themselves,  for  the  first 
time,  with  the  church,  and  under  the  ministry 
of  the  Eev.  W.  E.  Schenck,  that  Miss  Breckin- 
ridge enrolled  her  name  among  the  members  of 
the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of  Princeton,  and 
she  never  regretted  the  decisive  step. 

The  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  when  it  begins 
its  perfect  work  in  the  heart  of  man,  falls  upon 
the  peculiarities  and  inequalities  of  human  char- 
acter like  snow  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
which  covers  and  modifies  everything  with  its 
pure  mantle ;  but  still,  hill  and  valley,  rock  and 
furrow  maintain  their  outline,  and  show  what 
lies  beneath.  ^ 

3 


MEMORIAL    OF 


These  peculiarities  God  uses  for  his  own 
glory  in  the  cliiFerent  departments  of  his  work. 
He  requires  service  as  various  as  the  characters 
which  he  has  formed,  and  which,  though  they 
partake  of  all  the  imperfections  of  our  fallen 
nature,  he  can  adapt  to  his  use  and  fit  them  for 
his  purpose. 

Miss  Breckinridge's  religion  partook  of  the 
energy  of  her  character,  and  was  not  idle  or  un- 
profitable. She  entered  immediately  upon  many 
of  those  paths  of  usefulness  which  are  open  to 
every  one.  She  was  a  constant  and  faithful  Sun- 
day-school teacher;  laboring  especially  among 
the  colored  people,  for  whom  many  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  her  life  had  given  her  a  special 
interest.  She  had  become  by  inheritance  the 
owner  of  several  slaves  in  Kentucky,  who  were 
a  source  of  great  anxiety  to  her;  and  the  will  of 
her  father,  though  carefully  designed  to  secure 
their  freedom,  had  become  so  entangled  with 
State  laws,  subsequently  made,  as  to  prevent  her, 
during  her  life,  from  carrying  out  what  was  his 
wish  as  well  as  her  owm.  By  her  will  she  di- 
rected that  they  should  be  freed  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, and  something  be  given  them  to  provide 
against  the  first  uncertainties  of  self-support. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  27 

Miss  Breckinridge's  religion  also  partook  of 
the  fearlessness  of  lier  character.  Though  per- 
haps morbidly  averse  to  everything  like  Phari- 
seeism,  or  a  studied  dialect  of  religious  expres- 
sion, yet  she  did  not  fear  to  speak  on  the  subject 
in  social  intercourse,  especially  with  her  young 
friends,  and  to  show  plainly  under  whose  banner 
she  served.  Some  of  these  still  remember  the 
benefit  which  they  have  received  from  her  con- 
versation. Her  aims  were  high  in  religion  as 
well  as  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge;  and  she 
tried  to  draw  others  with  her  up  the  toilsome 
though  delightful  ascent.  A  young  friend  re- 
marks in  a  note  written  just  after  her  death, 
"She  has  often  stimulated  me  to  improvement, 
though  unconscious  of  it  herself,  by  an  incidental 
remark  about  a  book,  or  an  allusion  indicating 
how  much  she  had  read  and  studied." 

Miss  Breckinridge  possessed  an  unusual  facil- 
ity in  conversation, — partly  natural  and  partly 
the  result  of  circumstances.  During  her  visits 
in  widely  different  parts  of  the  country,  she  had 
been  much  thrown  among  strangers,  in  situa- 
tions where  she  felt  herself  called  upon  for  a 
large  part  of  their  entertainment  as  guests.  'This 
had  produced  a  marked  effect  upon  her  qonver- 


28  MEMORIAL   OF 

sational  habits,  and  the  freedom  thus  acquired 
gave  her  unusual  facility  in  recommending  what 
is  good  to  those  around  her  in  private  life,  as 
well  as  in  the  hospital  and  by  the  bed  of  the 
dying. 

A  large  part  of  Miss  Breckinridge's  spiritual 
training  was  in  the  school  of  affliction.  The  first 
great  trial  of  her  life  was  the  death  of  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Porter,  which  occurred  in  1854,  very  little 
more  than  two  years  after  her  marriage,  and  while 
she  was  enjoying  everything  that  the  world  could 
give  to  make  her  happy.  She  died  of  cholera, 
after  an  illness  of  a  few  hours,  but  not  without 
time  to  look  consciously  into  another  world,  and 
to  leave  evidence  that  she  had  not  put  off  till 
then  the  necessary  preparation  for  the  exchange. 
Miss  Breckinridge  had  just  left  her  sister  in 
health,  and  had  been  a  few  days  at  home,  when 
the  terrible  news  reached  her.  It  was  one  of 
those  fearful  shocks  which  leave  a  life-long  scar 
upon  the  heart,  which  time  may  cover  over,  but 
cannot  efface;  as  the  tree  which  the  lightning 
has  scathed,  in  after-years  of  growth,  and  it  may 
be  even  of  luxuriance,  still  shows  its  wounds. 
The  anticipations  of  the  future  had  been  bright 
between  these  sisters;  promising  that,  after  so 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  29 

many  separations,  one  happy  home  would  oftener 
unite  tliem;  and,  when  this  cup  was  dashed 
from  her  lips,  there  seemed  to  be  no  earthly 
stream  that  could  take  its  place. 

Until  near  the  time  of  her  own  death,  she 
hardly  ever  mentioned  the  name  of  her  sister 
without  a  change  of  countenance  and  of  voice, 
which  showed  how  deep  was  her  feeling.  These 
private  sorrows,  however,  were  never  allowed  to 
sadden  the  hours  of  family  or  of  social  inter- 
course. She  was  naturally  of  a  cheerful  dispo- 
sition, and  was  also  conscientiously  thoughtful  of 
the  claims  of  those  around  her.  'No  one  who  ever 
enjoyed  an  evening  of  her  fireside  companion- 
ship could  forget  its  attractions.  Old  and  young, 
children  and  those  of  riper  years,  felt  the  fascina- 
tion of  her  bright  and  cheerful  conversation,  and 
regretted  her  absence. 

But  we  will  hasten  to  that  period  of  Miss 
Breckinridge's  life  which  we  especially  wish  to 
commemorate, — the  time  of  her  short  but  earn- 
est work  for  the  army,  and  through  that  for  the 
country.  The  interval  which  we  pass  over  was 
spent  as  usual,  divided  between  her  homes  at  the 
East  and  West;  and  during  this  time  she  aVUs  in 
the  habit  of  writing  occasionally  for  the  Prince- 

3* 


30  MEMORIAL    OF 

ton  Standard,  under  tlie  nom  de  plume  of  "A 
Bohemian,"  such  incidents  of  travel  and  fugi- 
tive thoughts  as  might  gratify  her  friends  at 
home.  We  will  give  two  or  three  of  these  short 
articles  as  reminiscences  of  those  years,  and  as 
the  first  productions  of  her  pen,  which  was  after- 
ward devoted  to  the  service  of  her  country. 


Princeton  Standard — Children's  Column. 
The  Little  Eay  of  Sunliglit. 

BY    A    BOHEMIAN. 

There  was  once  a  little  ray  of  sunlight — of  golden, 
beautiful  sunlight ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  like  some 
other  little  people  I  know,  this  little  ray  of  sunlight  was 
very  discontented,  and  had  a  sad  habit  of  grumbling  and 
finding  fault.  Well,  one  fine,  bright  winter's  day  all 
the  other  sunbeams  were  shining  away  with  all  their 
might,  dancing  over  the  water,  sparkling  on  the  snow 
till  it  looked  like  great  heaps  of  diamonds,  shining  on 
the  steeples  and  vanes  of  all  the  churches  in  the  city, 
where  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  happened,  till  they 
shone  like  gold  and  silver,  and  going  on  as  if  they  were 
crazy;  and  yet,  when  everybody  else  was  so  happy, 
what  must  this  little  sunbeam  do  but  grumble  worse 
than  ever.     He  was  in  a  terrible  humor,  talking  away 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDCJE.  81 

to  himself:  ''It  is  no  use  for  me  to  shine;  tlie  other 
sunbeams  are  just  as  bright  as  I  am ;  nobody  would 
ever  miss  me,  I  am  so  little,  if  I  should  go  out  and 
never  shine  again.     I  am  of  no  use  at  all." 

Now,  all  the  time  that  he  was  grumbling  in  this  way, 
he  was  wandering  carelessly  over  the  roof  of  an  old 
house,  so  forlorn  and  dismal  looking  it  was  enough  al- 
most to  make  a  sunbeam  sad.  The  windows  were  l)ro- 
ken,  the  shutters  hung  loosely,  and  creaked  in  the  wind, 
and  everything  was  as  dreary  and  wretched  as  it  could 
be.  Well !  what  should  this  little  sunbeam  find  in  the 
roof,  as  he  went  groping  over  it,  but  a  little  narrow 
crack  just  large  enough  for  him  to  peep  through.  I 
cannot  say  that  I  think  peeping  through  a  crack  or  a 
key-hole  a  nice  habit  for  any  one,  but  still  it  is  a  way 
sunbeams  have  always  had,  and  as  nobody  seems  to 
think  any  less  of  them  for  it,  I  suppose  it  was  all  right 
in  our  little  sunbeam  to  peep  in,  and  see  all  he  could, 
and  indeed  it  was  not  a  very  pleasant  sight  ;  but  after 
he  looked  in  and  lay  in  one  long  slanting  ray  across  the 
little  bed  in  the  corner  of  the  poor  old  garret  it  looked 
a  little  brighter.  There  was  only  one  little  window, 
and  so  many  of  its  panes  were  broken  and  stull'ed  with 
rags,  to  keep  out  the  cold  winds  and  rain,  that  you 
could  see  nothing  but  the  dark  walls  of  the  opposite 
house,  that  rose  up  so  much  higher,  you  could  not  get 
one  peep  at  the  blue  sky  above. 

There  was  no  fire  in  the  rickety  old  stove,  and  no 
furniture  beside  that  in  the  room,  but  a  broken  chair  and 
a  little  pallet  in  the  corner.  By  the  side  of  it  a  woman 
was  kneeling  with  her  face  covered,  and  stretched  upon 
it  a  little  child,  as  still  and  white  as  if  she  were  on,ly  an 


32  MEMORIAL   OF 

image  made  of  the  cold  snow  outside.  Her  eyes  were 
closed,  and  the  little  puny  arms  clung  tight  about  the 
neck  of  the  kneeling  woman,  but  as  the  sunbeam  fell  so 
suddenly  and  hopefully  across  her  face,  she  raised  her 
head,  and  holding  up  her  arms  to  meet  it,  cried :  "  Oh  ! 
mother !  mother  !  you  will  let  me  go  now.  See  the 
beautiful  light  God  has  sent  down  to  take  me  up  to 
heaven,"  and  with  one  little,  quivering  sigh,  she  fell 
back  upon  the  pillow.  Perhaps  her  soul  did  go  up  to 
God,  with  the  little  sunbeam — but  after  that  I  am  sure 
he  never  grumbled  any  more,  and  was  the  brightest 
little  ray — the  very  busiest  and  most  hopeful  of  all  the 
rest. 

Dear  little  children !  do  jon  know  what  I  want  to 
teach  you  from  this  story  ?  I  am  sure  you  can  tell.  It 
is  this,  that  none  of  you  are  so  little,  and  so  unnoticed, 
but  that  God  has  something  for  you  to  do  in  the  world. 
There  is  some  one  you  can  comfort  and  brighten,  by 
your  gay  little  faces  and  bright  hearts,  and  by  being  gen- 
tle, patient,  and  meek  tempered.  May  be  you  think  you 
are  not  bright  enough  to  be  a  ray  of  sunlight,  but  then 
you  know  you  can  at  least  be  the  little  crack  for  the 
sunlight  to  shine  through. 


For  tlie  Standard. 

G-rowing  up  to  Things. 

Whenever  I  fall  to  thinking  about  that  power  of  as- 
sociation of  which  I  have  spoken  before,  I  find  myself 
branching  off  into  a  train  of  thought  relating  to  another 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  33 

subject,  but  one  closely  coniiected  with  it  and  equally 
curious  and  interesting;  that  is,  the  way  in  which  we 
outgrow  our  impressions ;  or,  to  put  it  differently,  the 
way  in  which  we  grow  up  to  things. 

Do  you  not  find  that  your  notions  of  height,  and  size, 
and  distance  are  vastly  different  from  what  they  were 
in  your  youth  ;  so  that  if  you  come  back  after  a  long 
absence  to  accustomed  scenes  you  can  hardly  believe 
that  the  change  you  perceive  is  in  yourself  and  not  in 
them  ? 

Prominent  in  your  early  recollections,  as  in  my  own, 
may  be  a  high,  old-fashioned  mantle-piece,  such  a  man- 
tle-piece as  is  a  constant  distress  to  a  child  of  inquiring 
mind,  staring  before  him  as  an  actual  tower  of  Babel, 
impossible  for  him.  You  can  just  remember  the  time 
when  your  father  or  your  big  brother,  after  carrying 
you  round  the  room  on  his  shoulder,  deposited  you  on 
the  smooth,  broad  shelf,  from  which  you  gazed  down 
on  things  below  you  with  very  much  the  same  feelings 
that  you  now  look  off  from  some  high  table-land.  Its 
actual  uses,  too,  were  calculated  to  tantalize  you  still 
more,  as  the  very  impossibility  of  your  reaching  it  made 
it  a  place  of  deposit  for  all  forbidden  delights.  There 
was  laid  your  sister's  new  book,  which  you  had  already 
deprived  of  both  backs  and  the  title-page.  There,  too, 
oh  cruelty  !  right  within  vicAV  were  placed  all  such  arti- 
cles of  food  as  had  on  other  occasions  proved  how  slen- 
der was  your  regard  for  the  eighth  commandment.  By 
the  time  you  are  tall  enough  to  climb  up,  and  with  much 
exertion  and  holding  very  tight,  can  flatten  your*  little 
nose  against  the  carved  mantle-edge,  and  sweep  the 
smooth  length  with  your  inquisitive  eyes,  you  M'e  sent 


34  MEMORIAL    OF 

off  to  school.  Years  have  passed  since  then,  and  now, 
when  you  stand  leaning  against  it,  you  smile  as  you  re- 
call your  childish  notions  of  its  great  height,  and  laugh 
wonderingl}"  over  the  fears  and  longings  which  were 
such  serious  matters  in  your  child-life.  The  simple 
truth  is,  you  have  grown  up  to  the  mantle-piece. 

So  too  it  is  with  distance.  Places  that  once  seemed 
very  far  off  you  consider  now  quite  within  easy  walking 
distance.  What  used  to  be  a  journey  for  your  little  feet 
you  talk  of  now  as  going  "round  the  corner."  Have 
you  never  observed  how  hard  it  is  to  get  a  correct  view 
of  the  dimensions  of  anything  from  a  person  who  has 
not  seen  it  since  his  childhood  ?  Even  if  you  try  it 
yourself  you  will  find  a  constant  tendency  to  exaggera- 
tion in  your  notions  and  recollections.  A  boy  who  has 
been  taken  from  a  country  home  and  introduced  into 
city  life,  will  carry  into  his  manhood  an  idea  of  gran- 
deur and  extent  in  connection  with  his  early  home  which 
will  astonish  him  if  he  returns  to  it  in  later  years. 
Everything  will  look  shrunken.  He  will  hardly  be  able 
to  persuade  himself  that  the  fields  have  not  been  nar- 
rowed in,  and  the  fences  made  lower.  He  will  at  first 
sight  find  fault  with  the  last  proprietor  for  cutting  a 
piece  off  of  the  garden.  He  will  be  sure  the  well  has 
been  moved  nearer  to  the  house  ;  that  the  swing  has 
been  trifled  with,  because,  he  says,  it  used  to  be  so  high, 
and  is  now  only  a  very  moderate  affair.  The  very  doors 
and  windows  will  look  as  if  in  the  extremity  of  their 
loneliness  they  had  crowded  together  for  companion- 
ship. In  fact  the  place  he  thought  so  large,  so  grand, 
is  just  a  modest  little  farm.  It  is  in  all  respects  just 
what  it  was  when  he  looked  back  at  it  through  his 


MARGARET    E.   BRECKINRIDGE.  35 

tears ;  but  he,  ah  !  that  is  it,  he  has  grown  up  to  it  and 
is  a  man  !  I  went  not  long  ago,  the  first  time  for 
years,  to  a  place  once  familiar,  which  had  undergone 
many  alterations.  One  single  room  remained  as  it  had 
always  been,  and  there  I  went  for  refuge  from  the 
strange,  unfamiliar  looks  that  greeted  me  on  every  side. 
*' Yes,"  I  said,  as  I  stepped  across  the  threshold,  "this 
looks  like  an  old  friend;  but  why  have  you  made  it  so 
much  smaller,  what  need  was  there  to  move  in  the 
walls  ?"  Those  who  were  with  me  smiled,  but  it  was 
long  before  they  could  persuade  me  that  the  room  was 
really  unaltered — that  I  had  grown  up  to  it. 

The  same  entire  change  of  impression  we  all  notice 
in  regard  to  time.  We  know  how  proverbial  it  is  that 
the  years  seem  apparently  shorter  asw^e  advance  in  life. 
The  mention  of  a  year  gives  a  child  an  idea  of  painful 
length ;  to  an  old  man  it  seems  a  point — a  dream. 
Most  striking  of  all  is  this  change  of  impression  when 
it  affects  our  relations  with  those  about  us.  You  can 
think  of  some  one  perhaps  who  was  the  object  of  your 
childish  awe  or  admiration,  some  one  that  you  never 
thought  of  years  afterward  without  a  mental  obeisance. 
At  last  in  the  course  of  events  you  meet  again,  and 
though  it  is  unfair,  you  do  feel  a  pang  of  disappoint- 
ment. You  say  to  yourself,  "  Why,  I  thought  he  was 
a  very  tall  man,"  or  you  fancy  he  is  less  cultivated  and 
intelligent  than  he  used  to  be,  or  may  be,  poor  man,  he 
never  was  such  a  Solon  as  you  thought  him.  At  any 
rate,  he  is  the  same  that  he  always  was, — if  anything 
improved, — and  you  have  grown  up  to  him,  tha^  is  all 
the  change.  A  few  years  make  a  wonderful  diflerence 
in  the  fitness  of  men  as  companions  for  one  «-nother. 


36  MEMORIAL   OF 

A  boy  of  ten  and  a  man  of  twenty  will  take  little  pleas- 
ure in  each  other's  society.  Ten  years  later,  the  man 
of  twenty  and  the  man  of  thirty  may  be  most  congenial 
friends.  In  ten  years  more  the  difference  between  men 
of  thirty  and  forty  years  will  be  hardly  noticeable,  and 
ten  years  later  they  might  be  taken  for  men  of  precisely 
the  same  age.  I  have  heard  a  story  of  a  lady  who  must 
have  had  peculiar  and  hopeless  ideas  on  this  subject  of 
growing  up  to  our  associates.  She  was  to  be  married 
to  a  man  sixty  years  old,  she  herself  being  thirty.  When 
she  was  rallied  about  the  disparity  of  age,  she  replied, 
"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  it  now ;  but  just  think,  when  I  am 
sixty  he  will  be  one  hundred  and  twenty !"  There  are 
certain  people,  however,  to  whom  we  never  do  grow  up. 
No  absence  or  lapse  of  years  can  wear  away  the  feel- 
ings of  awe,  and  even  in  some  cases  of  positive  dread 
with  which  they  have  inspired  us.  I  think,  for  instance, 
it  must  require  a  large  amount  of  cool  self-possession 
to  venture  on  a  joke  or  take  any  liberty  with  a  man  who 
once  led  your  childish  feet  up  the  steep  ascent  of  knowl- 
edge by  the  assistance  of  a  ferrule  or  a  dunce-cap.  I 
remember  reading  of  an  eminent  man  in  England  who, 
to  the  last  years  of  his  life,  never  heard  the  name  of  his 
schoolmaster  mentioned  without  a  thrill  of  apprehen- 
sion. He  had  not  been  an  uncommonly  severe  teacher, 
but  his  scholar,  though  far  above  him  in  j)Osition  and 
power,  had  not  yet  grown  up  to  him. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  37 

At  the  beginning  of  the  war  which  for  four 
years  desolated  our  country,  one  idea,  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  every  other,  seemed  to  take  possession 
of  the  mind  of  Miss  Breckinridge.  To  do  what 
she  could,  and  all  that  she  could,  to  aid  in  the 
fierce  struggle  against  rebellion,  was  the  object 
ever  before  her  eyes  and  filling  her  heart.  Dur- 
ing the  first  of  these  eventful  years  she  was 
detained  at  her  home  in  Princeton,  by  duties 
which  she  considered  paramount;  but  still  it  was 
a  year  of  constant  and  laborous  service.  Her 
heart  and  her  hands  answered  readily  to  the 
calls  which  came  so. urgently  in  those  early  days 
of  the  war,  when  supplies  and  comforts  of  every 
kind  were  demanded  from  a  government  and 
a  country  entirely  unprepared  for  the  emer- 
gency. It  was  then  even  more  necessary  than 
afterward  that  private  exertion  should  be  added 
to  the  gigantic  efforts  of  public  ofiicers,  and  she 
felt  the  duty  and  earnestly  endeavored  to  meet 
it.  It  may  truly  be  said  that,  while  she  remained 
at  home,  her  thoughts  and  her  hands  never  wan- 
dered from  the  work  of  preparing  and  packing 
those  articles  needed  for  the  army,  which  .are 
now  so  well  known  in  every  community,  and 


38  MEMORIAL    OF 

lier  frequent  appeals  to  others  were  seldom  un- 
successful. 

"A  Word  about  the  War,"  written  by  her 
while  thus  engaged,  may  be  interesting,  as  a 
tribute  to  that  spirit  of  liberty  which  bore  the 
people  unflinchingly  through  four  long  and 
weary  years  of  warfare  and  bloodshed,  to  come 
forth  a  regenerated  nation. 

From  the  Princeton  Standard. 
A  Word  about  the  War. 

It  always  seemed  to  me  a  most  unfair  arrangement 
that  armies  should  be  made  to  fight  the  battles  of  indi- 
viduals ;  that  when  some  belligerent  old  king  could  not 
live  in  peace  with  his  royal  neighbors,  or  coveted  some 
tempting  island,  or  choice  little  fortification,  which  he 
could  neither  cheat  nor  cajole  them  out  of,  he  should 
assemble  his  peaceably  inclined  and  well  disposed  sub- 
jects, and  make  them  settle  it  by  force  of  arms. 

Goliath's  plan  of  deciding  the  whole  thing  by  single 
combat  was  sensible  and  humane,  though  he  did  not 
mean  it  so,  and  I  have  wished  devoutly  that  all  warlike 
kings  could  be  compelled  to  enter  a  "ring"  in  sight  of 
their  respective  armies,  and  settle  their  own  disputes. 
Two  good  results  would  follow:  first,  in  all  probability 
their  subjects  would  so  be  happily  rid  of  them ;  and  sec- 
ond, much  blood  and  treasure  would  be  spared.  The  wars 
of  modern  times  are  more  plausible,  and  generally  more 


MARGARET    E.   BRECKINRIDGE.  39 

abstract  in  their  objects  than  those  of  earlier  days,  but 
I  can  as  little  imagine  now  as  then,  any  heartiness  or 
real  patriotism  among  the  mass  of  those  who  go  to  war 
under  a  monarchy.  Look,  for  instance,  at  the  late  wars 
of  Great  Britain.  Do  you  suppose  that  most  of  those 
who  wasted  away  in  the  Crimea,  or  fell  at  the  Redan 
and  on  the  heights  of  Alma,  cared  a  rush  for  that  nice 
question  as  to  the  balance  of  power  which  they  had 
been  sent  there  to  adjust,  or  that  a  whole-souled  love  of 
Britain  animated  them?  Or  when  the  British  soldier 
felt  his  death  wound  on  the  coast  of  China,  was  it  much 
comfort  to  him  to  know  that  England  had  gained  her 
point,  and  that  the  Celestials  were  to  chew  opium 
whether  they  wanted  to  or  not?  Even  during  the  war 
for  the  suppression  of  the  Indian  rebellion,  enthusi- 
asm and  love  of  country  struggled  with  many  doubtful 
thoughts  which  pointed  backward  to  oppressions  through 
which  those  troublesome  possessions  were  gained,  and 
anxious  hearts  questioned,  thoughthey  might  not  whis- 
per it,  whether  they  had  a  right  to  hope  for  peace  and 
comfort  from  them. 

From  this  turn  to  our  own  land  and  see  what  war 
can  be  under  a  republic. 

Talk  as  you  may  of  the  horrors  of  this  civil  conflict 
that  is  about  to  burst  upon  us,  yet  when  you  think  of 
the  holy  cause  for  which  we  fight,  when  you  remember 
how  a  nation  of  loyal  hearts,  roused  from  their  trusting 
security,  greeted  that  cause  with  a  whirlwind  of  loving 
recognition  that  shook  the  land,  when  you  consider  who 
those  are  that  go  forth  to  fight  for  it,  is  there  not*  a  fit- 
ness, a  grandeur  in  it,  such  as  war  has  never  yet  known  ? 
England  has  her  standing  army  ready  at  her  sowjreign's 


40  MEMORIAL   OP 

call,  but  England  never  saw  what  we  have  seen.  She 
never  saw  the  hills  and  valleys  start  to  life  with  armed 
men,  and  from  the  Eastern  seaboard,  the  Northern  hills, 
the  Western  prairies,  and  the  sunny  plains  and  mount- 
ain sides  which  rebellion  thought  to  claim,  saw  the  grow- 
ing streams  pour  inward  to  a  common  center,  leaving 
in  their  track  the  deserted  workshop,  the  silent  wheel, 
the  idle  tool,  and  the  ungathered  harvest.  All  was  for- 
gotten but  the  danger  threatening  the  countr}^  in  which 
each  man  was  a  sovereign,  the  city  which  belonged 
alike  to  all,  and  the  rulers  whom  the  right  of  suffrage 
had  proclaimed  the  people's  choice.  Is  not  this  as  it 
should  be  ?  Surely  they  only  who  govern  themselves 
can  fight  heartily  and  bravely  for  the  preservation  of  that 
noble  right  of  self-government, — There  is  a  legend  of  a 
holy  man  to  whom  God  spoke  at  midnight,  and  said, 
''Rise  and  write  what  I  shall  tell  thee;"  but  he  an- 
swered, "  Lord,  I  have  no  light;"  and  God  said,  "Rise, 
and  write  as  I  bid  thee,  and  I  will  give  thee  hght;"  so 
he  obeyed.  His  fingers  sought  the  pen,  and  as  he 
touched  it  to  the  parchment,  his  hand  glowed  with  light 
that  streamed  from  under  it  and  illumined  all  the  cham- 
ber. 

So  it  has  been  with  us.  It  was  the  voice  of  God 
that  roused  us  to  see  the  peril  which  menaced  liberty 
and  union.  It  was  only  for  the  rescue  of  such  liberty 
and  such  a  Union  as  ours  that  a  nation  could  have  been 
so  roused,  and  therefore  from  this  very  uprising  comes 
new  light  and  strength,  for  that  Union  must  be  worth 
our  lives  and  fortunes,  the  possibility  of  whose  destruc- 
tion has  called  a  nation  to  its  feet.  Yes,  good  seceding 
brothers,  the   Union  is  worth  all  that  we  can  give; 


MARGARET    E,   BRECKINRIIKIE.  41 

"there  are  many  things  clearer  to  a  nation  than  even 
blood  and  treasure,"  and  we  must  bring  you  home  like 
the  prodigal,  and  restore  to  you  all  that  you  have  madly 
flung  away,  whatever  it  may  cost  us.  You  may  hug  to 
your  bosoms  the  narrow  liberties  and  loose  twisted 
union  of  your  new  confederacy  for  a  little  while,  but 
your  waking  will  come  as  surely  as  ours.  Oh !  if  he 
who  stirred  the  people  with  his  war-cry  a  hundred 
years  ago,  could  come  back  now,  and  standing  where 
he  stood  then,  gaze  upon  the  ruins  you  have  made,  do 
you  not  think  he  would  hft  his  hand  to  Heaven  once 
more,  praying,  "  If  this  is  liberty,  oh,  give  me  death  !" 

A  Bohemian. 


But  the  time  came  when  she  wished  to  under- 
take the  more  laborious  and  trying  duties  of  a 
hospital-nurse.  Her  friends,  Avith  hardly  an  ex- 
ception, United  to  oppose  this  plan,  knowing  ^vell 
that  her  delicate  frame  and  excitable  tempera- 
ment were  ill  adapted  to  hear  the  hardships  of 
such  a  situation.  Other  arguments  were  also 
thrown  into  the  scale  by  anxious  relatives;  but 
her  whole  soul  was  fixed  on  the  work;  she  never 
faltered  for  a  moment;  and  even  now,  when  the 
w^orst  fears  of  those  friends  have  been  realized, — 
even  now^,  they  cannot  but  feel  that  the  sacrifice, 
though  it  might  have  been  a  mistaken  oae,  and 
4* 


42  MEMORIAL   OF 

partaking  too  much  of  her  natural  enthusiasm, 
was  a  sincere  offering,  and  was  accepted  by  God, 
and  answered  by  that  heavenly  fire  which  alone 
could  give  life  and  efficacy  to  the  work. 

In  April,  1862,  Miss  Breckinridge  left  home 
for  the  West;  on  her  way  remaining  some  weeks 
in  Baltimore,  where  she  commenced  her  hospital 
service.  Her  letters  from  that  place  show  the 
great  interest  which  she  felt  in  the  work,  and  in 
the  individual  cases  which  were  committed  to 
her  care.  She  left  Baltimore,  carrying  with  her 
the  seeds  of  measles,  which  she  had  contracted 
in  the  hospital,  and  which  developed  themselves 
on  her  journey,  so  that  she  was  quite  ill  when 
she  arrived  at  the  house  of  her  cousin,  in  Lex- 
ington, Kentucky.  It  was  some  weeks  before 
she  was  able  to  resume  her  work  in  the  hospitals 
of  that  place.  In  the  beginning  of  July  her  let- 
ters revert  to  the  subject  which  was  so  near  her 
heart,  and  show  that  she  had  again  become 
actively  engaged. 

But  deeper  and  nearer  experiences  of  the  war 
were  before  her.  Toward  the  middle  of  July,  the 
guerrillas,  under  John  Morgan,  reached  the 
neighborhood  of  Lexington  in  the  course  of  a 
wild  raid,  made  into  Kentucky,  spreading  con- 


MARGARET    E.   BRECKINRIDGE.  43 

sternation  among  the  inhabitants  wherever  they 
came. 

After  this  raid  was  over  and  Morgan  was 
driven  back,  there  followed  some  weeks  of  com- 
parative qniet,  thongh  not  withont  constant  ru- 
mors and  threats  of  impending  danger.  About 
the  first  of  September,  these  threats  were  put 
in  execution  by  an  invasion  of  the  rebel  army, 
under  General  Kirby  Smith,  who,  for  about  six 
weeks,  held  possession  of  Lexington  and  the 
neighborhood.  "We  will  again  use  her  own  nar- 
rative, written  soon  after: 


The  Kebels  in  Kentucky.— An  Experience  of  Six  "Weeks 
among  the  Soldiers  of  Gens,  Kirby  Smith,  and  Bragg. 

Nov.  15,  18G2. 

The  history  of  the  late  invasion  of  Kentucky  was 
written  at  the  time  in  telegraphic  dispatches  and  the 
reports  of  Generals,  but  there  were  a  hundred  incidents 
full  of  interest  connected  with  it  which  will  never  be 
known  unless  they  are  related  by  some  one  who  lived 
in  the  midst  of  them  and  knew  of  them  as  they  oc- 
curred. Perhaps  such  a  history  may  be  read  with  in- 
terest. 

It  was  on  Tuesday,  the  2d  of  September,  that  Kirby 
Smith  and  his  body-guard  rode  into  Lexington,  and 
took  formal  possession  of  the  town  without  the  firing 
of  a  gun.     "Lor,  massa!"  said  one  of  their  nc^i'o  ser- 


44  MEMORIAL    OF 

vants  to  an  officer,  "  Lor,  massa  !  dis  de  easiest  took 
town  we  got  yet !"  It  had  evidently  been  a  most  agree- 
able surprise  to  them  that  our  troops  had  not  made  a 
stand  there.  Worn  out  with  the  hardships  of  their  ter- 
rible march  from  Virginia,  hungry  and  naked,  they  had 
fought  at  Richmond  with  all  the  desperation  of  men 
w^ho  knew  that  defeat  was  utter  destruction,  and  now, 
out  of  ammunition  and  out  of  heart,  they  looked  for- 
ward to  another  struggle  for  the  possession  of  Lexing- 
ton. 

The  condition  they  were  in  was  never  known  till 
long  after,  or  it  might  have  altered  affairs  entirely,  but 
with  the  knowledge  we  had  then,  the  evacuation  of  the 
town  was  considered  a  military  necessity.  We  had  no 
troops  but  the  new  recruits  who  had  just  been  defeated 
at  Richmond,  not  from  want  of  bravery,  but  of  disci- 
pline and  knowledge,  and  were  no  match  for  the  ragged 
veterans  of  Kirby  Smith.  Most  of  them  had  been  only 
a  fortnight  in  the  service,  and  knew  so  little  of  military 
terms  that  when  ordered  on  the  battle-field  to  "fire  by 
platoons,"  the  greater  part  of  both  officers  and  men  did 
not  know  what  was  meant.  Almost  the  only  regiment 
there  which  had  seen  service,  the  Eighteenth  Kentucky, 
had  fought  with  a  bravery  and  determination  which  called 
forth  the  praise  of  Kirby  Smith  himself,  and  had  come 
out  of  the  battle  with  but  300  men;  and  so,  for  the 
present,  Lexington  was  given  up  quietly  to  the  rebels. 
To  them  it  was  like  reaching  the  promised  land.  Never, 
perhaps,  since  the  days  of  the  retreat  from  Moscow,  was 
there  such  a  terrible  march  as  that  one  through  Big 
Creek  Gap  to  the  interior  of  Kentucky.  They  never 
liked  to  talk  of  it,  and  seemed  to  look  upon  it  as  a  time 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRTDGE.  45 

of  suffering  to  be  forgotten  as  soon  as  possible.  Many 
of  them  said  they  would  rather  die  than  go  back  the 
way  they  came ;  and  by  little  and  little  we  drew  from 
them  how  they  had  been  bushwhacked  by  the  loyal 
mountain  men  from  the  moment  they  entered  the  State ; 
how,  for  fifteen  miles,  at  one  time,  the  crack  of  the 
rifles  had  never  ceased,  and  their  comrades  had  dropped 
one  by  one  at  their  sides,  shot  by  invisible  hands. 
Sometimes  they  would  stop  for  a  few  moments  to  hang 
some  of  these  poor  mountain  men,  who  were  trying, 
"not  wisely,  but  too  well,"  to  keep  out  the  invaders, 
and  then  pass  on  again,  hardly  stopping  day  or  night, 
for  fear  we  might  have  time  to  prepare  for  them  before 
they  got  here.  Their  only  food  for  days  and  days  was 
the  green  corn  they  pulled  as  they  passed  through  the 
country,  and  eat  raw  as  they  marched  along.  Kirby 
Smith  himself  had  nothing  better  for  many  days. 
Their  clothing  was  ragged  and  dirty,  their  feet  bare, 
and  their  heads  uncovered.  So  wretched  was  their 
condition,  that,  on  the  battle-field  at  Richmond,  they 
wrangled  over  the  bodies  of  our  dead  and  wounded, 
each  one  angrily  claiming  that  "those  were  his  shoes," 
and  "that  was  his  hat,"  and  in  some  cases  entirely 
stripping  our  poor  fellows,  and  leaving  them  wrapped 
in  blankets  to  take  care  of  themselves. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  his  entrance  into  the  town, 
Gen.  Smith  issued  a  proclamation  in  the  usual  concilia- 
tory and  even  pathetic  style.  He  had  come  to  deliver 
us  from  bondage;  would  we  not  receive  him  as  our 
friend?  and  promising  (which  we  regarded  as  much 
more  to  the  point)  to  respect  the  property  and  persons 
of  private  citizens.    Their  policy  evidently  was  te  make 


46  MEMORIAL   OF 

friends,  to  gain  over  the  people  and  the  State  by  good 
treatment  and  plausible  words ;  and  for  a  day  or  two  it 
had  its  effect.  People  who  had  expected  to  be  impris- 
oned, if  not  killed  outright,  were  amazed  at  such  be- 
havior ;  others  who  had  never  been  very  staunch  or 
loyal,  were  dazzled  by  what  seemed  the  entire  conquest 
of  the  State,  and  young  men  of  States'  rights  proclivi- 
ties rushed  in  crowds  to  the  recruiting  office.  It  was 
all  a  delusion  and  a  dream.  The  reins  tightened  in 
proportion  to  the  distance  and  the  numbers  of  the  great 
Union  army  gathering  at  Louisville  and  Cincinnati, 
and  as  they  felt  their  hold  on  the  State  relaxing,  they 
determined  to  make  as  much  as  possible  out  of  their 
campaign  in  Kentucky  and  were  restrained  at  last  only 
by  fears  of  retaliation. 

The  welcome  which  greeted  Kirby  Smith  and  his 
army  as  he  entered  Lexington,  was  mistaken  by  him 
for  an  expression  of  the  town  itself.  Never  was  a  poor 
man  more  deceived.  It  was  a  demonstration  made  by 
secessionists  from  all  the  neighboring  counties,  who  had 
flocked  in  for  the  very  purpose,  no  doubt,  of  creating 
such  an  impression.  Lexington  is,  for  the  most  part, 
a  loyal  town,  and  so  Kirby  Smith  found,  to  his  chagrin, 
a  few  days  afterward.  Flushed  with  his  success,  he 
issued  an  order  for  the  observance  of  Jeff.  Davis's 
Thanksgiving  Day,  and  notified  the  different  clergymen 
that  their  churches  must  be  opened.  Perplexity  sat 
upon  reverend  faces,  and  at  last  the  da}^  came.  But 
two  churches  were  opened,  and  when  the  hour  for  ser- 
vice arrived  in  one  of  them,  a  secretly  delighted  pastor 
sat  gazing  at  empty  pews,  and  in  the  other  a  dismayed 
con'gregation  sat  gazing  at  an  empty  pulpit.     At  last 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE,  47 

they  sent  for  Gen.  Smith  himself.  He  came  and  saw 
the  position  at  once.  The  church  was  Presbyterian, 
but,  nothing  daunted,  he  drew  his  prayer-book  from  his 
pocket,  read  the  Episcopal  service,  and,  in  his  agitation 
perhaps,  read  it  all  wrong,  dismissed  his  little  flock  of 
goats,  and  went  home  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man.  At 
that  very  time,  a  train  of  ambulances,  bringing  our  sick 
and  wounded  from  Richmond,  was  leaving  town  on  its 
way  to  Cincinnati.  It  was  a  sight  to  stir  every  loyal 
heart;  and  so  the  Union  people  thronged  round  them 
to  cheer  them  up  with  pleasant,  hopeful  words,  to  bid 
them  God  speed,  and  last,  but  not  least,  to  fill  their 
haversacks  and  canteens.  We  went,  thinking  it  possi- 
ble we  might  be  ordered  off  by  the  guard,  but  they  only 
stood  off,  scowling  and  wondering. 

"  Good-by,"  said  the  poor  fellows  from  the  ambu- 
lances, "we're  coming  back  as  soon  as  ever  we  get 
well." 

"Yes,  yes,"  we  whispered,  for  there  were  spies  all 
round  us,  "  and  every  one  of  you  bring  a  regiment  with 
you." 

Kirby  Smith  saw  it  all,  and,  disappointed,  mortified, 
and  astonished  at  his  day's  adventures,  confessed  that 
night,  that  after  the  welcome  which  had  greeted  him,  ho 
was  not  prepared  for  such  a  demonstration  over  Union 
soldiers,  and  such  an  utter  lack  of  interest  in  Jctf. 
Davis's  Thanksgiving  Day.  He  found  it  was  not 
Lexington  that  had  welcomed  him. 

"Where  does  Gen.  Smith  preach  this  morning?" 
said  a  lovely  Union  lady  to  the  sentinel  at  headquarters 
the  next  Sunday. 


48  MEMORIAL   OF 

"  You  are  mistaken,  ma'am,"  replied  the  obtuse  senti- 
nel ;   "Gen.  Smith  isnU  a  preacher  at  all." 

Soon  after  their  arrival,  Confederate  scrip  began  to 
make  its  way  into  the  stores.  A  proclamation  came 
out,  ordering  it  to  be  taken,  and  taken  at  par.  If  a 
merchant  refused  it,  his  goods  were  seized  and  the  price 
fixed  by  those  who  took  them.  One  or  two  stores, 
owned  by  obnoxious  Union  men,  were  taken  possession 
of  and  a  guard  placed  at  the  door,  and  all  were  forced 
to  open  their  stores  for  a  certain  number  of  hours.  The 
most  provoking  thing  was  their  own  apparent  contempt 
for  the  scrip.  When  asked  exorbitant  prices  for  any- 
thing (as  it  came  to  be  the  result,  of  course,  that  prices 
became  fabulous),  they  never  seemed  surprised,  and 
threw  their  money  about  ''as  if  it  was  brown  paper," 
said  some  one.  Prominent  secessionists  refused  to  re- 
ceive it,  and  some  officers  in  the  army  took  it  as  seldom 
as  possible,  giving  in  one  instance  as  an  excuse,  "that 
they  wanted  greenbacks  as  a  curiosity  /" 

It  will  not  do,  however,  in  telling  these  things,  to  let 
it  be  supposed  that  Kirby  Smith  was  answerable  di- 
rectly for  all  that  happened.  After  John  Morgan's 
arrival,  a  few  days  afterward,  many,  or  most  of  the 
outrages  were  committed  by  his  men.  Horse-stealing 
was  their  favorite  amusement,  and  this  Gen.  Smith 
exerted  himself  to  put  a  stop  to.  Report  said  that  they 
quarreled  often  and  sharply  about  it — Gen.  Smith  wish- 
ing to  restrain  the  men,  and  Morgan  determined  to  allow 
them  every  license.  We  were  startled  one  morning  by 
the  sudden  and  violent  ringing  of  all  the  fire-bells  in 
town.  Hearing  of  different  threats  that  had  been  made 
to  burn  the  town,  we  supposed  it  must  be  that.     It 


MARGARET   E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  49 

turned  out  to  be  a  welcome  to  John  Morgan  and  his 
men.  A  very  significant  sound  to  greet  him  with. 
Thev  rode  through  the  town  in  triumph,  the  same  wild, 
ill-looking  set  who  had  become  familiar  to  us  at  the 
time  of  their  first  raid,  1500  of  them,  without  uniform, 
dirty,  and  desperate  looking,  an  unwelcome  sight  to 
Union  people,  or  to  any  lover  of  law  and  order.  Be- 
sides their  secession  colors,  they  carried  a  number  of 
smaller  flags.  The  Texan  Rangers  had  their  own — a 
black  cross  and  one  white  star  upon  a  crimson  ground ; 
others  had  blue  flags  with  an  egg-shaped  figure,  or  a 
crescent  and  cluster  of  stars,  and  about  which  they  were 
so  unwilling  to  be  questioned  that  we  concluded  that 
they  were  secret  signs  of  the  "Golden  Circle."  It 
was  a  day  of  triumph  for  them,  remembering  how  they 
had  been  foiled  in  their  last  attempt  upon  the  town. 
"This  is  the  town,  boys,"  said  one  of  their  captains, 
mockingly,  to  his  men,  ''this  is  the  town  they  would 
rather  die  than  surrender."  From  that  time,  so  far  as 
all  feeling  .of  safety  or  protection  went,  we  might  as  well 
have  lived  among  the  Camanches.  The  carelessness  and 
recklessness,  and  utter  disregard  of  right  that  grew 
worse  from  day  to  day,  might  land  us  anywhere.  It 
was  like  living  on  a  magazine  of  powder. 


About  the  first  of  E'ovember,  when  Lexington 
was  again  freed  from  this  rebel  invasion  and  from 
its  accompanying  alarms,  Miss  Breckinric>ge,  in 

5 


50  MEMORIAL    OF 

pursuance  of  her  original  plan,  left  Kentucky  to 
spend  the  winter  in  St.  Louis,  with  her  brother. 
Judge  Breckinridge,  whose  house  she  considered 
as  her  Western  home.  Immediately  on  her  ar- 
rival, she  commenced  her  visits  at  the  hospitals 
in  that  city  and  its  neighborhood.  After  two 
days  spent  at  Jefferson  Barracks,  she  writes : 

"I  shall  never  be  satisfied  till  I  get  right  into  a 
hospital,  to  live  till  the  war  is  over.  If  you  are  con- 
stantly with  the  men,  you  have  hundreds  of  opportuni- 
ties and  moments  of  influence  in  which  you  can  gain 
their  attention  and  their  hearts,  and  do  more  good  than 
in  any  missionary  field." 

But  the  most  trying  work  of  the  winter,  and 
which  left  its  mark  most  ineffaceably  on  her  frail 
constitution,  was  that  which  she  performed  on 
the  hospital  boats  which  were  sent  down  the 
Mississippi  to  bring  up  the  sick  and  wounded 
from  the  posts  below.  Two  excursions  of  this 
kind  she  made  in  company  with  a  few  other 
ladies  from  St.  Louis;  the  two  trips  occupying 
about  two  months,  and  affording  every  variety  of 
pleasurable  and  painful  experience.  These  boats 
went  down  the  river  either  empty  or  carrying 
companies  of  soldiers  to  rejoin  their  regiments; 
and,  as  they  left  home  with  fresh  supplies  and  in 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  61 

comparatively  good  order,  the  first  experiences 
were  not  so  trying.  But,  when  returning,  every 
corner  filled  with  the  sick  and  dying,  from  the 
malarious  swamps  of  the  White  River,  and 
Young's  Point,  and  even  the  cabin  floor  and 
deck  covered  with  these  emaciated  and  fever- 
stricken  men,  who  must  be  tended  and  ministered 
to  in  that  position,  it  can  easily  be  imagined, 
that,  with  the  fatigues  of  such  nursing,  with  the 
exposure  to  chilly  and  miasmatic  air,  which  the 
crowded  state  of  the  boat  rendered  necessary, 
and  with  the  injurious  diet,  when  everything 
salutary  seemed  to  be  needed  by  the  sick  and 
suffering,  very  few  could  come  unscathed  out 
of  such  an  ordeal.  And  few  did  thus  come. 
Several  were  sick,  or  returned  to  be  sick  at 
home,  and  Miss  Breckinridge  congratulated  her- 
self that  she  was  among  the  few  who  were  able 
to  hold  out  to  the  end  and  perform  her  neces- 
sary duties.  After  her  return  to  St.  Louis,  she 
wrote,  for  the  gratification  of  her  own  friends, 
as  well  as  to  stimulate  the  friends  of  the  sol- 
diers, an  account  of  her  experiences  on  the 
river,  from  which  we  will  make  some  selections. 
These  records  of  the  war,  however  informal,  will 
increase  in  interest  as  the  Great  Eebellion  re- 


52  MEMORIAL   OF 

cedes  from  the  bloody  foreground  to  its  place  on 
the  page  of  history. 


Adventures  on  a  Hospital  Boat  on  the  Mississippi. 

No.  1. 

St.  Louis,  Feb.  4,  1863. 


Dear  : 

I  LITTLE  thoug-lit  when  I  wrote  to  you  a  month  ago 
what  a  strange  adventurous  life  the  JNew  Year  would 
bring  to  me ;  that  I  should  go  down  to  the  borders  of 
Dixie,  and  then  join  the  fleet  bound  for  White  River, 
and  go  up  with  it  into  the  very  heart  of  Arkansas,  see- 
ing more  of  the  war,  and  appreciating  the  hardship  and 
'danger  of  a  soldier's  life  from  experience.  It  all  begins 
to  look  dreamy  to  me  already,  and  if  I  wait  any  longer  to 
write  you  the  history  of  those  four  weeks  I  am  afraid 
it  will  float  away  from  me  entirely,  like  a  great  shadowy 
island,  and  be  lost  in  the  ocean  of  the  past. 

It  was  on  Monday  evening,  January  4th,  that  we  left 
St.  Louis,  with  our  boxes  of  hospital  stores  directed  to 
"  Yicksburg,  Mississippi,"  which,  in  the  plenitude  of 
our  faith  in  Sherman  and  the  gunboats,  we  did  not 
doubt  was  already  in  our  hands.  It  was  not  till  we  left 
Cairo  the  next  afternoon  that  the  danger  and  excitement 
of  our  journey  began  to  impress  us.  We  met  steam- 
boats coming  up  with  saucy  little  cannon  putting  their 
.  noses  out  at  the  sides  of  the  engine,  and  with  their  pilot- 
houses protected  by  mattresses  and  sheets  of  iron,  both 
of  which  were  suggestive  of  guerrillas,  masked  batteries, 
and  other  ugly  things.     We  passed  the  battle-field  at 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  53 

Belmont  in  the  gray  of  the  evening,  a  sombre,  desolate 
place  at  best,  and  desolate  indeed  when  we  recalled  all 
that  had  happened  there.  It  was  night  when  we  passed 
under  the  shadow  of  the  frowning  cliflf  at  Columbus,  and 
so  dark  that  if  Bishop  Polk's  chain  and  torpedoes  had 
been  there  we  should  have  been  wrecked  assuredly. 
The  next  day  our  acquaintance  with  guerrillas  began. 
They  were  very  polite,  they  urged  us  in  every  possible 
way  to  land,  but  our  captain  had  been  up  and  down 
many  times,  had  been  fired  into  once,  and  knowing  that 
their  signals  were  counterfeit,  shook  his  head  with  a 
funny  smile  and  said,  '*  I  know  too  much  to  land  here, 
old  fellows."  They  did  not  fire  at  us,  and  we  passed 
on  to  Fort  Pillow.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  it.  It 
is  the  most  magnificent  position  for  a  fort,  commanding 
the  whole  sweep  of  the  river  up  and  down  for  miles,  and 
why  any  force  holding  it  should  ever  surrender  seems  a 
wonder.  The  water-battery,  with  its  piles  of  sand  bags, 
so  matted  together  now  they  look  like  white  stone  work, 
is  still  there,  the  soldiers'  tents  crowning  the  bluff  above 
it,  and  long  before  we  reached  the  landing  a  stream  of 
blue-coats  began  to  pour  down  the  steep  road  cut  on 
the  hill-side,  to  meet  us  and  hear  the  news  from  Yicks- 
burg,  which  we  could  not  tell  ourselves.  All  along  be- 
low here  the  guerrillas  are  getting  perfectly  rampant ; 
burning  cotton,  and  decoying  unwary  captains  ashore, 
and  then  seizing  and  destroying  their  boats  and  freight, 
are  favorite  pastimes  with  these  playful  creatures.  At 
a  little  town  above  Memphis  we  put  off  some  country 
merchants  who  had  been  up  to  St.  Louis  for  goods; 
they  were  professedly  loyal  men,  and  the  first  news  they 
5* 


54  MEMORIAL   OF 

heard  as  they  went  ashore  was  that  a  band  of  guerrillas 
were  then  ravaging  the  country  seven  miles  back,  burn- 
ing cotton  and  conscripting  every  man  they  could  find. 
Poor  people,  I  did  feel  sorry  for  them.  They  looked 
after  us  with  despairing  eyes,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  them 
they  were  hovering  round  their  trunks  and  boxes,  afraid 
to  go,  and  more  afraid  to  stay. 

Memphis  is  a  perfect  hot-bed  of  secessionists — and 
they  are  only  smothered,  not  extinguished.  The  city 
is  very  handsomely  laid  out,  and  finely  built  up,  and  in 
the  square  is  a  statue  of  Jackson.  Some  morbid  rebel 
has  taken  a  chisel  and  almost  scratched  out  the  words 
"  Federal  Union  "  from  the  inscription  at  its  base.  I 
only  wish  Old  Hickory  had  come  to  life,  and  caught 
him  doing  it.  To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  audacity  of 
these  guerrillas ;  while  we  lay  at  Memphis  that  afternoon, 
in  broad  daylight,  a  party  of  six  dressed  in  our  uniform 
went  on  board  a  government  boat  lying  just  across  the 
river,  and  asked  to  be  taken  as  passengers  six  miles  up 
the  river,  which  was  granted ;  but  they  had  no  sooner 
left  the  shore  than  they  drew  their  pistols,  overpowered 
the  crew,  and  made  them  go  up  eighteen  miles  to  meet 
another  government  boat  coming  down  loaded  with 
stores,  tied  the  boats  together  and  burned  them,  setting 
the  crew  of  each  adrift  in  their  own  yawl,  and  nobody 
knew  it  till  they  reached  Memphis,  two  hours  later. 
Being  able  to  hear  nothing  of  the  wounded,  we  pushed 
on  to  Helena,  ninety  miles  below,  and  here  dangers 
thickened.  We  saw  the  guerrillas  burning  cotton  with 
our  own  eyes  along  the  shore,  we  saw  their  little  skiffs 
hid  away  among  the  bushes  on  the  shore,  and  just 
before  we  got  to  Helena,  had  a  most  narrow  escape 


MARGARET    E.   BRECKINRIDGE.  55 

from  their  clutches.  A  signal  to  land  on  the  river  was 
in  ordinary  times  never  disregarded,  as  the  way  busi- 
ness of  freight  and  passengers  was  the  chief  profit  often 
of  the  trip,  and  it  seems  hard  for  pilots  and  captains  al- 
ways to  be  on  their  guard  against  a  decoy.  At  this 
landing  the  signal  was  given  all  as  it  should  be  (they 
had  counterfeited  the  new  signal),  and  we  were  just 
rounding  to,  when,  with  a  sudden  jerk,  the  boat  swung 
round  into  the  stream  again.  The  mistake  was  dis- 
covered in  time  by  a  government  officer  on  board,  and 
we  escaped  an  ambush.  Just  think:  we  might  have 
been  prisoners  in  Mississippi  now,  but  God  meant  bet- 
ter things  for  us  than  that.  I  was  amazed  to  find  that 
quite  a  force  is  constantly  hovering  in  the  rear  of  He- 
lena. Hardly  a  week  passes  that  there  is  not  a  skir- 
mish, and  our  pickets  are  constantly  ''gobbled  up,"  as 
the  expression  is  here — which  means  captured  and  pa- 
roled, though  sometimes  they  never  return  any  more. 
Just  before  we  reached  Helena  a  picket-guard  of  twenty- 
six  were  captured  by  a  band  who  had  our  uniform  on, 
and  who  came  behind  them  in  the  direction  of  our  own 
camps  and  so  surprised  them.  Strangely  enough,  when 
one  of  our  gunboats  captured  a  rebel  mail  on  the  White 
River,  a  letter  was  given  to  me,  as  my  share  of  the 
spoils,  containing  a  minute  account  of  how  "  Capt.  Gid- 
dings "  and  his  men  had  managed  the  affair,  and  re- 
turned safe  to  their  camp  after  having  paroled  their 
prisoners.  Still  more  strangely,  on  our  hospital  boat 
coming  up,  who  should  be  on  their  way  to  St.  Louis 
but  these  same  paroled  men,  about  twenty  of  them.  I 
sent  them  word  that  I  had  a  letter  telling  how  they 
were  taken,  and  if  they  had  any  curiosity  to  >know  I 


56  MEMORIAL   OF 

would  read  it  to  them.  It  was  quite  funny  to  watch 
their  astonished  faces,  and  to  see  their  surprise  and 
amusement  as  I  read  the  history  of  their  own  adven- 
tures from  rebel  authority  !  You  never  saw  so  wretched 
a  place  as  Helena ;  low,  damp,  and  enveloped  in  a  con- 
tinual fog,  the  rain  poured  down  the  whole  time  we 
were  there,  and  the  camps  stretching  for  miles  up  and 
down  the  river  looked  like  the  constant  and  abiding 
dwelling-place  of  fever  and  ague,  and  it  is  without 
doubt  a  most  sickly  place.  Why  it  should  ever  have 
been  chosen  for  a  military  post,  and  why  it  is  held  still, 
though  known  and  proved  to  be  a  most  unhealthy 
place,  nobody  seems  able  or  willing  to  tell.  The  mud 
is  enough  to  frighten  anybody  who  does  not  wear  cav- 
alry boots,  and  the  soldiers,  who  with  all  their  hard- 
ships and  privations  have  a  joke  for  everything,  tell 
grave  stories  of  mules  and  wagons  being  lost  forever  in 
the  streets  of  Helena,  two  pointed  ears  being  the  self- 
erected  monuments  to  tell  where  each  mule  is  buried. 
I  saw  myself,  while  we  were  making  the  tour  of  the 
town,  a  great  mud-hole,  with  a  sign-board  on  a  pole  at 
its  edge.  Three  significant  words  were  written  on  it, 
"  This  is  bottomless.^^  But  oh  !  the  contrabands,  my 
heart  did  ache  for  them.  Such  wretched,  uucared  for, 
sad-looking  creatures  I  never  saw.  Just  at  the  top  of 
the  levee  there  were  two  groups  waiting  to  be  taken  back 
to  Mississippi  again.  A  poor  dejected  man*  stood  in  the 
midst  of  one  group  (women  and  children,  boxes  and 
bags  in  a  heap  all  round),  holding  an  old  horse  by  a 
bridle. 

"Well,  Uncle,"  I   said,   "how  do   you   like   being 
free  ?" 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  57 

"  I  liaint  seen  no  freedom  yet,  missis,  I'se  a  gwine 
home  agin  !" 

They  come  in  such  swarms  that  it  is  impossible  to  do 
an3'thing  for  them,  unless  benevolent  people  take  the 
thing  into  their  hands.  They  have  a  little  settlement 
in  one  end  of  the  town,  and  the  government  furnishes 
them  rations,  but  they  cannot  all  get  work,  even  if  they 
were  all  able  and  willing  to  do  it  (which  many  are  not)  ; 
then  they  get  sick  from  exposure,  and  now  the  small-pox 
is  making  terrible  havoc  among  them.  They  have  a 
hospital  of  their  own,  and  one  of  our  Union  Aid  ladies 
had  gone  down  to  superintend  it,  and  get  it  into  some 
order,  but  it  seems  as  if  there  was  nothing  before  them 
but  suffering  for  many  a  long  day  to  come,  and  that  sad, 
sad  truth  came  back  to  me  so  often  as  I  went  about 
among  them,  that  no  people  ever  gained  their  freedom 
without  a  baptism  of  fire.  The  soldiers  seem  to  have  a 
latent  notion  that  the  contrabands  were  in  the  begin- 
ning the  cause  of  the  war,  and  feel  a  little  spiteful  to- 
ward them  accordingly,  forgetting  that  they,  poor  souls, 
are  innocent.  It  was  Saturday  morning  that  we  left 
Helena  for  the  White  River,  at  the  mouth  of  which,  we 
had  heard,  lay  the  boat  with  the  wounded  from  Yicks- 
burg;  our  yellow  flag,  which  we  had  made  that  morn- 
ing, appealing  silently  to  the  hearts  of  the  guerrillas  ; 
but  we  had  gone  only  a  few  miles  before  we  met  Gen. 
Gorman  coming  up,  who  convinced  us  that  we  were  no 
longer  independent  civilians,  but  enlisted  soldiers,  under 
military  rule.  He  told  us  we  were  not  safe  without  an 
escort,  and  that  we  must  turn  round  and  go  up  t©  He- 
lena again,  which  we  did  in  the  meekest  manner,  haul- 
ing down  our  yellow  flag,  and  following  humbly  in  the 


68  MEMORIAL    OF 

rear.  At  Helena  our  plans  were  all  changed.  Gen. 
Gorman  was  about  to  start  on  his  White  River  expedi- 
tion, and  expecting  to  have  severe  fighting  himself, 
wanted  us  to  go  with  his  fleet.  The  City  of  Memphis, 
with  the  wounded  from  Vicksburg,  came  up  that  very- 
day,  and  finding  that  they  had  been  well  cared  for,  and 
were  all  to  be  discharged  at  the  Memphis  hospitals,  we 
took  a  vote,  and  were  unanimous  for  White  River.  That 
day  and  the  next  was  a  scene  of  the  wildest  confusion. 
The  levee  was  alive  with  troops,  and  the  river  with 
boats.  The  idea  of  leaving  Helena,  and  of  "getting  a 
chance  at  a  fight,"  as  they  said,  seemed  to  set  the  sol- 
diers wild.  One  long,  loud  hurrah  seemed  to  shake  the 
very  air,  and  as  one  boat  after  another  was  loaded  and 
passed  over  to  the  other  side  to  wait  for  the  flag-ship 
to  join  them  and  give  the  signal  for  starting,  the  shout 
was  taken  up  by  the  camps  all  along  the  river,  and  died 
away  among  the  woods,  only  to  come  surging  back 
again  the  next  moment  louder  than  ever.  As  we  leaned 
over  the  guards,  watching  the  thronging  crowds  on  the 
levee,  who  were  waiting  to  be  ordered  on  their  boats, 
and  listening  to  their  cheerful  talk  and  funny  jokes, 
checked  every  now  and  then  by  a  dry  hacking  cough, 
or  a  yawn  that  ended  in  something  that  wanted  to  be  a 
sigh,  and  watching  one  group  in  particular  who  were 
singing  the  "red,  white,  and  blue"  most  .lustily,  one 
man  holding  the  lantern,  which  shone  full  in  their  faces, 
and  threw  the  whole  thing  out  in  bold  relief;  just  then, 
while  we  were  watching  them,  the  word  of  command 
was  given,  they  sprang  to  their  feet,  fell  into  line,  and 
marched  down  toward  our  boat.  Yes,  they  were  com- 
ing on  board,  and  before  we  knew  it  (we  were  so  taken 


MARGARET    E.   BRECKINRIDCJE.  59 

by  surprise,  and  so  busy  watching  them  walking  up  the 
plank),  they  had  come  up  the  steps  and  were  all  around 
us,  and,  as  I  turned  to  see  what  it  was,  a  blue  cape 
flapped  in  my  face,  a  musket  rapped  me  on  the  head, 
and  two  soldiers,  who  were  about  to  walk  over  me, 
drew  back  as  much  bewildered  as  I  was,  and  I  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  into  the  cabin.  We  did  not  know  then 
how  many  pleasant  hours  we  should  spend  among  them, 
how  sadly  we  should  bid  them  good-by,  or  how  often 
we  should  look  back  and  wonder  what  the  fortunes  of 
war  had  brought  to  them.  m.  e.  b. 


Adventures  on  a  Hospital  Boat  on  the  Mississippi. 
No.  II. 

St.  Louis,  Feb.  4,  18G3. 

It  was  on  Sunday  evening, — alas  !  that  this  should  be 
the  day  so  often  chosen  for  starting, — that  the  fleet,  all 
loaded  and  ready,  twenty-nine  vessels  in  all,  lay  waiting 
for  the  flag-ship  to  give  the  signal  for  starting,  and  at 
last  it  came,  long  and  shrill,  and  one  by  one  we  dropped 
down  the  river  and  joined  the  procession  over  which 
the  red  and  green  lights  of  each  floated  like  so  many 
stars,  as  far  as  we  could  see  in  the  distance,  and  morn- 
ing found  us  all  at  rest  again  at  the  mouth  of  White 
Kiver,  a  narrow  little  stream  that  crept  out  from  behind 
a  sharp  bend  between  two  thickets  of  cotton-wood,  as 
if  it^was  ashamed  of  something  it  had  been  doing. 

''Why  don't  we  go  on?"  said  the  raw  recruit.^ 


60  MEMORIAL   OF 

"  Waiting  for  orders,"  said  the  old  soldier,  with  a 
compassionate  smile,  as  if  he  remembered  the  time  when 
he  wondered  and  asked  questions  too. 

"  Are  you  ready,  for  I  am  ?"  shrieked  the  flag-ship  at 
last. 

"Yes !  yes !  yes !  yes  !"  the  answer  came,  and  was  car- 
ried back  from  boat  to  boat,  and  as  the  last  shrill 
whistle  came  faintly  from  far  up  the  shore  the  proces- 
sion took  up  its  march.  At  the  mouth  of  the  river  two 
stately  ships  lay  at  anchor,  like  a  royal  couple  waiting 
to  receive  their  court.  Slowly  and  gracefully  our  trans- 
ports, one  by  one,  glided  past  them,  turned,  advanced 
again,  it  almost  seemed  as  if  they  courtesied,  and  then 
swept  round  the  bend,  and  out  of  sight  into  White  River. 
It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten.  Now  our  tribu- 
lations began.  A  wonder  for  crookedness  is  this  little 
river,  and  so  narrow  that  some  of  our  larger  boats  were 
in  danger  of  blockading  the  stream  permanently,  while 
trying  to  get  round  the  sharp  bends.  At  first  it  was 
terrific  to  feel  the  stern  crushing  in  among  the  trees, 
and  hear  the  slight  wood- work  round  the  guards  snap- 
ping and  tearing  as  some  overhanging  bough  swept 
along.  Some  of  us  made  a  rapid  exit  from  one  of  the 
state-rooms  as  a  great  cypress  branch  came  poking  its 
bead  almost  into  the  door,  and  when  we  tied  up  for  the 
night,  every  boat  had  some  disaster  to  tell  of  or  some 
dreadful  wound  to  show.  One  had  lost  a  piece  of  the 
wheel-house,  a  branch  had  swept  a  dozen  muskets  and 
knapsacks  from  the  deck  of  another,  and  from  a  third 
fourteen  poor  horses  had  fallen  through  a  hole  torn  out 
of  the  lower  deck.  Our  boat  was  comparatively  small, 
so  tTiat  we  did  not  share  the  anxiety  of  the  larger  ones. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  61 

It  was  soon  after  we  got  into  the  river  that  an  order 
was  given  to  load  muskets,  and  a  guard  was  stationed 
on  the  roof;  and  it  was  a  place  fit  for  all  kinds  of  des- 
perate deeds.  A  desolate,  wilderness-looking  country, 
no  signs  of  life  for  miles  and  miles  together,  the  low, 
swampy  shore  covered  with  cypress  trees  and  wild  cane 
brakes,  and  the  long  tangled  vines,  like  funeral  draping, 
fringing  the  trees  and  hanging  in  a  trailing  mass  on  the 
ground.  A  hundred  guerrillas  and  a  dozen  batteries 
might  have  been  hidden  in  it,  and  it  was  well  to  be  pre- 
pared. Occasionally,  as  we  went  on,  a  single  house 
might  be  seen  set  up  on  four  high  legs,  as  if  it  wished 
to  be  prepared  to  walk  away  at  a  moment's  notice.  The 
Spring  floods  are  equal  to  an  Egyptian  overflow,  and 
the  high  water,  twelve  feet  higher  than  the  surface, 
looks  like  a  misty  cloud  floating  along  the  shore.  As 
it  subsides,  it  leaves  the  country  covered  with  a  rank 
vegetation,  and  full  of  deadly  vapors.  The  water  is  full 
of  fever,  and  the  country  almost  uninhabitable.  Even 
now  the  water  is  almost  poisonous  to  those  who  take 
it  without  care.  On  our  boat  alone  half  the  soldiers 
were  sick  (some  never  recovered)  from  the  effects  of  the 
water.  It  has  a  peculiar  color,  as  if  chalk  had  been 
mixed  with  it,  and  is  very  cold ;  to  me  the  pleasantest 
water  I  have  ever  tasted. 

I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  about  our  prayer  meet- 
ings. There  were  many  religious  men  among  the  sol- 
diers, and  twice  on  Sunday,  and  three  times  in  the  week 
we  had  little  gatherings  that  reminded  us  all  of  home. 
Away  off  there  in  that  wild  deserted  country  we  s^ng 
the  same  hymns  that  you  were  all  singing  at  home,  and 
even  among  the  soldiers,  to  whom  people  generally  give 

6 


62  MEMORIAL   OF 

little  credit  for  religious  principle,  we  found  a  little 
church.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  stirred  and  thrilled 
me,  and  how  I  longed  for  you  all  to  see  the  crowded 
cabin,  and  hear  the  woods  along  shore  ringing  with  the 
notes  of  the  dear  old  hymns  I  have  sung  in  Princeton 
so  often,  as  the  men  sat  on  the  guards  singing  together 
hour  after  hour ;  and  when  it  was  pleasant  we  went  out 
and  sang  with  them.  I  don't  believe  the  old  Arkansas 
woods  ever  heard  of  a  prayer-meeting  or  a  hymn  before. 
It  was  not  till  the  third  night, — the  other  two  we  spent 
tied  up  along  the  shore,  protected  by  a  strong  picket 
force, — that  we  reached  St.  Charles;  and  here  we  had 
expected  to  find  troops  to  dispute  our  progress ;  the  little 
gunboat  which  protected  our  advance  had  been  passing 
up  and  down,  scouting,  trying  to  draw  any  hidden  fire 
there  was,  and  greeted  with  shouts  and  hurrahs  on 
every  side.  We  knew  how  much  our  own  safety  de- 
pended upon  her,  and  we  had  just  heard  that  it  was  to 
the  gunboats  we  owed  the  victory  at  Arkansas  Post. 
No  enemy  was  to  be  found  at  St.  Charles.  The  in- 
trenchments  were  all  deserted  and  the  town  almost 
empty.  A  regiment  was  landed,  and  a  chain  of  pickets 
thrown  out,  and  right  at  the  spot  where  our  poor  drown- 
ing men  were  murdered  as  they  were  clinging  to  the 
sides  of  the  gunboat,  just  where  the  Mound  City  lay, 
we  too  lay  all  night.  How  little  I  thought  then  that  I 
should  ever  see  the  place.  The  next  morning  we  went 
on  to  Clarendon  cautiously,  for  at  any  moment  we  might 
meet  an  enemy,  but  here  again  the  town  had  been  left 
for  our  occupation.  The  cavalry,  which  left  Helena 
when  we  did,  had  come  across  and  were  already  in  pos- 
session.    They  had  taken  prisoners,  and  had  several 


MARGARET    E.    BRECKINRIDGE.  63 

skirmishes  by  the  way,  and  had  stories  to  tell  of  some 
narrow  escapes  and  hard  marches.  It  did  not  take  long 
for  our  soldiers  to  scour  the  town,  and  capture  every 
house.  A  party  would  rush  in,  and  finding  nobody,  up 
stairs  they  would  go  and  in  a  moment  hang  out  a  blue 
blanket,  a  token  of  victory.  Many  a  poor  chicken  and 
pig  fell  an  unwilling  victim,  and  when  we  left  for  Du- 
vall's  Bluff  next  morning  there  was  little  that  was  eat- 
able left  in  the  town.  Above  Clarendon  the  river  is 
perfectly  bewildering  in  its  windings  and  convolutions. 
Boats  that  we  had  seen  in  front  of  us  a  moment  before, 
appear  suddenly  away  back  among  the  trees  behind  us. 
It  is  a  perfect  game  of  hide  and  seek.  We  turn  a  sharp 
bend  and  two  of  our  fleet  are  just  in  front  of  us,  but  in 
a  moment  they  are  gone  out  of  sight  behind  the  next 
point  of  land,  and  so  we  chase  them  all  day  long,  just 
to  see  them  sweep  around  one  bend  as  we  come  in  sight 
around  the  other.  Wild  geese  and  ducks  and  plenty  of 
crane  rise  in  flocks  as  we  come  suddenly  upon  them,  but 
except  where  the  bluff  strikes  the  river  suddenly,  as  at  St. 
Charles,  no  sign  of  life  or  human  habitation  appears  for 
miles  together.  It  was  on  Friday,  the  16th  of  Januar}^, 
that  we  came  cautiously  and  expectantly  upon  Duvall's 
Bluff.  It  was  here  that  there  was  sure  to  be  a  strong 
force,  it  was  here  we  hoped  to  retake  the  Blue  Wing, 
which  had  come  up  just  a  day  in  advance  of  us  all  the 
way,  and  here  was  the  railroad  connecting  with  Little 
Rock  and  only  fifty  miles  from  it,  but  there  was  nothing 
to  dispute  our  landing.  On  the  shore,  and  just  ready 
to  be  carried  off,  were  two  large  siege  guns,  the  ropes 
were  round  them,  and  the  platform  cars  standing  by  all 
ready  to  receive  them,  but  they  had  gone,  leaving  it  all. 


64  MEMORIAL    OP 

Further  searcli  brought  to  h'ght  two  hundred  muskets 
hid  in  a  barn,  and  some  sick  rebels  in  a  httle  hut  on  the 
hill.  A  contraband  said  that  the  cars  were  to  come  in 
at  midnight  to  carry  all  away,  so  the  artillery  was 
posted  on  a  hill  commanding  the  track  for  miles,  and  we 
all  sat  up  to  wait  for  the  train, — not  that  we  expected 
any  friends, — but  they  had  had  warning  no  doubt,  and 
we  heard  nothing  of  them.  The  fortifications  here  are 
as  commanding  as  they  are  at  Fort  Pillow,  and  if  the 
two  siege  guns  had  been  mounted  we  should  have  found 
it  hard  work  to  come  within  many  miles  of  them.  We 
went  out  the  next  morning  to  look  at  the  spoils  we  had 
taken,  and  carried  some  books  and  tracts  for  the  soldiers, 
and  some  little  comforts  for  our  sick  prisoners  on  the 
hill.  It  was  the  wretchedest  little  hovel  I  ever  saw.  It 
had  no  windows ;  and  as  I  stood  in  the  doorway  (the 
bright  snow  had  blinded  my  eyes  so  that  I  could  see 
nothing)  I  thought  it  looked  as  much  like  the  picture 
of  a  pirate's  cave  as  anything  I  ever  saw.  It  was  pitch 
dark,  except  the  flickering  fire-light.  The  sick  men 
were  crouched  up  by  the  fire,  and  a  group  of  soldiers 
sat  around  on  boxes  and  on  the  bed,  the  fitful  blaze 
giving  them  a  most  sinister  look.  The  sick  men  were 
very  glad  to  see  us,  and  the  soldiers  fixed  seats  for  us, 
and  we  sat  and  listened  to  the  old  story.  How  they 
had  been  Union  from  the  first,  how  they  were  "  di^ug  " 
in  and  forced  in,  and  how  charmed  they  were  to  be 
taken.  I  confess  I  am  suspicious  of  these  excessively 
loyal  prisoners,  and  the  sequel  does  not  always  go  to 
confirm  their  stories.  Of  all  benighted  creatures  I  think 
one,  of  these  poor  wretches  did  exceed  anything  I  ever 
knew.     Mrs.   C.  had  brought  an  apple  with  her,  and 


MARGARET   E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  65 

gave  it  to  him.  She  told  him  he  must  roast  it,  and  as 
I  had  a  long  string  in  my  pocket  I  tied  it  to  the  stem, 
and  then  fastened  the  other  end  to  a  nail  in  the  mantle- 
piece,  and  it  twirled  and  sputtered  most  beautifully 
right  over  the  coals. 

"  La  !"  said  he,  "  I  never  seed  a  roast  apple  before  !" 
Mrs.  C.  then  said,  ''.Would  you  like  a  lemon  ?" 
"  I  can't  say,  ma'am,"  he  answered,  "  I  don't  know 
what  that  is." 

She  handed  it  to  him,  and  he  proceeded  to  smell  it  in 
a  feeble  manner,  and  at  last  asked  her  what  it  was  good 
for  !  "To  make  a  drink,"  she  said,  and  I  am  satisfied 
that  as  soon  as  Ave  were  gone  he  boiled  it.  All  the 
spoils,  guns,  muskets,  and  prisoners,  were  taken  on 
board  the  fleet,  and  on  Saturday  we  heard  that  as  soon 
as  the  gunboat  returned  from  up  the  river  we  were  to  go 
back  to  Helena  again.  The  King  of  France  is  not  the 
only  man  who  has  had  to  march  "down  the  hill  again," 
without  accomplishing  anything.  It  was  not  till  Mon- 
day morning  that  we  left  Duvall's  Bluff,  and  our  pas- 
sage down  was  rapid  compared  with  our  slow  rate  of 
speed  going  up.  The  current  is  very  swift,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  the  boat  was  kept  from  being  driven 
ashore  against  the  sharp  bends,  and  we  were  all  dilapi- 
dated enough  when  we  got  out  into  the  great  broad 
Mississippi  again.  We  stopped  again  at  Clarendon, 
still  leaving  a  force  of  cavalry  there.  At  St.  Charles, 
which  we  left  to  its  desolation,  the  town  was  all  de- 
stroyed but  one  Union  house,  and  the  intrenchments  and 
barracks  made  a  blaze  which  lighted  the  sky  all  through 
the  night.  We  had  many  sick  men  on  board,  and 
plenty  to  keep  us  busy  all  the  time,  but  we  W>ere  not 
6* 


66  MEMORIAL   OF 

sorry  to  see  the  broad  waters  of  the  Mississippi  stretch- 
ing- out  before  us  again,  and  to  know  that  we  were  turn- 
ing homeward  once  more.  The  saddest,  indeed  the 
only  sad  occurrence  of  the  whole  journey  happened  just 
after  we  left  the  mouth  of  the  White  River  again.  We 
stopped  for  wood,  and  the  men  imprudentl}^  scattered 
all  through  the  forest.  The  signal  for  starting  was 
given,  the  men  all  came  on  board  again,  and  we  went 
on  for  a  mile  or  two  before  it  was  found  out  that  eleven 
men  were  missing.  We  returned  at  once — a  squad  of. 
men  under  their  captain  were  marched  ashore,  and 
were  going  up  to  the  town  when  three  of  their  lost  com- 
rades came  rushing  through  the  bushes,  overjoyed  to 
see  us  all  again.  The  others  have  never  been  heard  of, 
and  as  mounted  guerrillas  were  seen  by  those  who  re- 
turned, and  revolver  shots  and  shooting  were  heard  in 
the  distance,  they  were  probably  overpowered  and 
taken  prisoners.  I  will  not  think  that  they  have  been 
killed  ;  they  were  some  of  the  pleasantest  of  all  the  com- 
pany. The  captain  would  have  gone  on  searching  for 
them,  but  it  was  thought  an  ambush  had  been  prepared 
to  decoy  them  all  into  the  bushes,  and  so  we  went  off 
sorrowfully  enough.  At  Helena,  where  it  was  raining 
again,  we  left  our  soldier  friends.  Their  regiment,  the 
twenty -ninth  Wisconsin,  was  not  to  go  to  Yicksburg, 
and  they  went  into  camp  again.  We  met  Grant's  army 
going  down,  and  found  another  excitement  at  Helena, 
where,  with  troops  and  transports,  all  was  life  and  stir. 
But  here  for  us  the  scene  changes.  We  were  transferred 
to  the  hospital  boats  coming  up  with  the  sick,  and  Mrs. 
C.  and  myself  were  detailed  to  take  charge  of  the 
smallest,  on  which  were  one  hundred  and  sixty  patients. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  07 

and  of  the  week  we  spent  among  the  sick  and  dying 
there,  I  will  tell  you  when  I  have  time  to  write  again. 
Yours,  etc.,  M.  e.  b. 


From  the  Princeton  Standard. 
Adventures  on  a  Hospital  Boat  on  the  Mississippi. 
No.  III. 

St.  Louis,  Feb.  4,  1863. 
It  was  on  Sunday  morning,  the  25th  of  January, 
that  Mrs.  C.  and  I  went  on  board  the  hospital  boat 
which  had  received  its.  sad  freight  the  day  before,  and 
was  to  leave  at  once  for  St.  Louis,  and  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  describe  the  scene  which  presented  itself  to 
me  as  I  stood  in  the  door  of  the  cabin.  Lying  on  the 
floor  with  nothing  under  them  but  a  tarpaulin  and  their 
blankets,  were  crowded  fifty  men,  many  of  them  with 
death  written  on  their  faces ;  and  looking  through  the 
half-open  doors  of  the  state-rooms  we  saw  that  they 
contained  as  many  more.  Young,  boyish  faces,  old  and 
thin  from  suffering,  great  restless  eyes  that  were  fixed 
on  nothing,  incoherent  ravings  of  those  who  were  wild 
with  fever,  and  hollow  coughs  on  every  side, — this,  and 
much  more  that  I  do  not  want  to  recall,  was  our  wel- 
come to  our  new  work ;  but  as  we  passed  between  the 
two  long  rows,  back  to  our  own  cabin,  pleasant  smiles 
came  to  the  lips  of  some,  others  looked  after  us  wondcr- 
ingly,  and  one  poor  boy  whispered,  "  Oh,  l)ut  it  is  good 


68  MEMORIAL   OF 

to  see  the  ladies  come  in  !"  I  took  one  long  look  into 
Mrs.  C.'s  eyes  to  see  how  much  strength  and  courage 
was  hidden  in  them.  We  asked  each  other,  not  in 
words,  but  in  those  line  electric  thrills  by  which  one 
soul  questions  another,  "Can  we  bring  strength  and 
hope  and  comfort  to  these  poor  suffering  men  V  and  the 
answer  was,  "Yes,  by  God's  help  we  will."  The  first 
thing  was  to  give  them  something  like  a  comfortable 
bed,  and  Sunday  though  it  was,  we  went  to  work  to 
run  up  our  sheets  into  bed-sacks.  Everyman  that  had 
strength  to  stagger  was  pressed  into  the  service,  and  by 
night  most  of  them  had  something  softer  than  a  tar- 
paulin to  sleep  on.  "Oh,  I  am  so  comfortable  now!" 
some  of  them  said  :  "I  think  I  can  sleep  to-night," 
one  little  fellow  exclaimed  half-laughing  with  pleasure; 
and  a  little  ray  of  light  seemed  already  to  have  pene- 
trated the  darkness.  The  next  thing  was  to  provide 
something  that  sick  people  could  eat,  for  coffee  and  bread 
was  poor  food  for  most  of  them.  We  had  two  little 
stoves,  one  in  the  cabin  and  one  in  the  chambermaid's 
room,  and  here,  the  whole  time  we  were  on  board,  we 
had  to  do  the  cooking  for  one  hundred  men,  for  the  stove 
intended  for  it  was  down  on  the  boiler  deck,  and  quite 
out  of  our  reach.  Twenty  times  that  day  I  fully  made 
up  ni}^  mind  to  cry  with  vexation,  and  twenty  times 
that  day  I  laughed  instead  ;  and  surely  a  "  kettle"  of  tea 
was  never  made  under  so  many  difficulties  as  the  one  I 
made  that  morning.  It  was  the  same  little  kettle  I  had  in 
all  my  wanderings,  and  I  had  an  affection  for  it.  Many 
a  cup  of  tea  had  been  made  in  it  on  the  White  River, 
and  now  somebody  had  been  borrowing  it  down  stairs 
and  had  lost  the  Hd.    "  Where  is  the  lid  of  my  kettle  V 


MARGARET    E.   BRECKINRIDGE.  69 

I  asked;  "the  water  will  not  boil."  A  group  of  sol- 
diers stood  round  ready  to  help.  One  went  for  the 
kettle  lid,  one  for  some  bread  to  make  toast,  another  was 
dispatched  for  a  knife,  and  a  fourth  for  a  fork — all  were 
good  natured  and  anxious  to  help,  but  they  had  not 
learned  "to  make  bricks  without  straw."  The  kettle 
lid  was  not  to  be  found,  the  water  simmered  and  sang 
at  its  leisure,  and  when  I  asked  for  the  poker  I  could 
get  nothing  but  an  old  bayonet,  and  all  the  time,  through 
the  half-open  door  behind  me,  I  heard  the  poor  hungry 
fellows  asking  the  nurses,  "  where  is  that  tea  the  lady 
promised  me?"  or,  " when  will  my  toast  come?"  But 
there  must  be  an  end  to  all  things,  and  when  I  carried 
them  their  tea  and  toast,  and  heard  them  pronounce  it 
"  plaguey  good,"  and  "  awful  nice,"  it  was  more  than  a 
recompense  for  all  the  worry.  One  great  trouble  was 
the  intense  cold.  We  could  not  keep  life  in  some  of  the 
poor  emaciated  frames.  "Oh  dear!  I  shall  freeze  to 
death  !"  one  poor  little  fellow  groaned  as  I  passed  him. 
Blankets  seemed  to  have  no  effect  upon  them,  and  at 
last  we  had  to  keep  canteens  filled  with  boiling  water 
at  their  feet.  Down  on  the  boiler  deck  were  those  who 
were  least  sick,  and  with  so  much  to  fill  our  hands  up 
stairs,  we  had  no  time  but  for  an  occasional  visit  down 
there,  to  see  that  they  were  suffering  for  nothing. 

We  had  some  serious  cases  of  erysipelas,  and  at  one 
time  it  caused  us  great  uneasiness  by  spreading  rapidly 
among  those  who  were  already  weakened  from  sickness  ; 
but  the  surgeons  had  them  all  removed  to  state-uooms 
and  kept  by  themselves,  and  there  the  infection  stopped. 
Most  of  the  cases  were  typhoid  fever,  the  worsts  form  I 
have  ever  seen.     I  had  one  patient,  a  poor  fellow,  who 


TO  MEMORIAL   OF 

was  the  most  patient  sufferer  I  ever  saw.  He  was  deli- 
rious for  many  days,  and  one  day  as  I  leaned  over  him 
he  looked  up  at  me  as  if  he  had  seen  me  for  the  first 
time.  "  Who  are  you  ?"  he  asked,  "  I  don't  know  you ;" 
and  though  he  seemed  satisfied  when  I  told  him  I  had 
come  to  take  care  of  him,  to  lie  quietly,  he  still  followed 
me  with  his  large  bright  eyes.  The  next  day  Mrs.  C. 
did  several  little  things  for  him,  and  had  charge  of  my 
wards  too,  as  I  was  busy  cooking  in  the  cabin.  That 
night  I  heard  him  call  one  of  the  nurses  to  him  and 
ask,  "Who  is  that  other  old  woman  that  has  been 
around  to-day  ?"  Alas,  for  Mrs.  C.  and  myself !  our 
dreams  of  youth  and  beauty  were  rudely  dispelled. 
Think  of  it!  To  be  called  ''old  women."  We  had 
many  a  laugh  over  it.  The  day  before  his  death  he 
was  mercifully  restored  to  consciousness,  dictated  a 
letter  to  his  wife,  and  though  he  longed  to  see  "  some 
one  from  home,"  seemed  willing  to  die.  He  had  been 
a  Christian  for  many  years.  Near  him  lay  a  poor  boy, 
about  whom  from  the  first  I  had  been  very  anxious. 
He  drooped  and  faded  from  day  to  day  before  my  eyes. 
Nothing  but  constant  stimulant  seemed  to  keep  him 
alive,  and  at  last  I  summoned  courage  to  tell  him — oh, 
how  hard  it  was  ! — that  he  could  not  live  many  hours. 
"Are  you  willing  to  die  ?"  I  asked  him.  He  closed  his 
eyes,  and  was  silent  a  moment,  then  came  that  pas- 
sionate exclamation  which  I  have  heard  so  often,  "My 
mother,  oh  !  my  mother  !"  and  to  the  last,  though  I  be- 
lieve God  gave  him  strength  to  trust  in  Christ,  and  wil- 
lingness to  die,  he  longed  for  his  mother.  I  had  to 
leave  him,  and  not  long  after  he  sent  for  me  to  come, 
that  he  was  dying,  and  wanted  me  to  sing  for  him.    He 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  71 

prayed  for  himself  in  the  most  touchhig  words ;  he  con- 
fessed that  he  had  been  a  wicked  boy,  and  then  with  one 
last  message  for  that  dear  mother,  turned  his  face  to  the 
pillow  and  died  ;  and  so,  one  by  one,  we  saw  them  pass 
away,  and  all  the  little  keepsakes  and  treasures  they 
had  loved  and  kept  about  them,  laid  away  to  be  sent 
home  to  those  they  should  never  see  again.  Oh  !  it 
was  heart-breaking  to  see  that. 

Seventeen  died  on  the  way  to  St.  Louis,  not  a  large 
number  to  those  who  saw  how  many  dying  men  were 
brought  upon  the  boat;  but  on  the  other  hand,  it  was 
a  happy  thing  to  see  many  of  those  who  seemed  so 
wretched  at  first,  reviving  gradually  under  a  little  care 
and  nursing.  Some  of  them  began  to  show  signs  of 
returning  health,  in  an  appetite  which  required  the  strict- 
est watching,  and  not  a  little  scolding,  to  keep  it  in 
check.  One  day  we  had  eggs  for  dinner  for  all  who 
could  eat  them ;  but  there  seemed  to  be  a  greater  num- 
ber distributed  than  there  were  men  to  eat  them,  though 
we  watched  very  closely  as  we  thought,  that  none  should 
be  helped  more  than  once.  The  mystery  was  explained 
at  last.  A  little  hungry-eyed  fellow,  who  had  declared 
he  could  eat  a  dozen,  raised  himself  in  bed,  and  shouted 
to  me,  "I  say,  ma'am,  I  know  what  them  fellows  does, 
they  eats  one  egg  lying  down,  and  then  gets  up  and 
goes  and  sits  by  the  stove  and  gets  another. "  I  ex- 
pressed great  horror  and  grief  at  such  perfidy,  and  said, 
''You  would  not  do  so,  would  you?"  "Oh!  yes, 
ma'am,"  he  answered,  "I  would  do  most  anything  to 
get  another." 

Tlie  morning  we  got  to  Cairo,  Mrs.  C.  and  I  went 
on  shore  very  early  to  buy  some  things  they'^wei-e  in 


72  MEMORIAL   OF 

need  of,  and  left  them  to  depend  on  the  men  nurses  for 
breakfast.  "What  had  you  for  breakfast?"  we  asked 
a  convalescent  on  our  return.  "  Oh  I  the  old  fai'e, 
coffee  and  bread."  "Very  well,"  we  told  him.  "You 
shall  have  a  good  dinner ;  there  will  be  eggs  for  all  to- 
day." He  seemed  to  think  it  was  a  joke,  but  finding 
we  were  really  in  earnest,  he  clapped  his  hands  and 
chuckled,  "Bully  for  you!"  as  strong  an  expression  of 
approbation  as  he  could  use  probably. 

I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  an  adventure  we  had 
coming  up.  We  were  all  sitting  quietly  round  the  stove 
resting,  the  sick  men  all  quiet  for  the  night,  when  a 
cannon  fired  from  the  shore  made  us  all  start  to  our 
feet.  It  seemed  to  have  been  fired  directly  at  the  boat. 
Going  out  on  the  guards,  we  found  we  were,  sure 
enough,  rounding  to  in  obedience  to  the  signal,  and  we 
could  see  in  the  moonlight  a  tent  and  about  thirty  men 
on  shore.  It  was  not  a  place  where  we  had  any  troops, 
it  must  be  the  rebels,  and  we  remembered  with  not 
much  pleasure  that  a  few  miles  below  we  had  been 
signaled  from  the  woods  by  what  we  supposed  were 
guerrillas,  and  these  it  might  be  were  some  more  of 
them.  The  minutes  that  passed  while  we  were  coming 
to  shore  seemed  ages,  and  we  waited  breathless  to  know 
our  fate.  I  have  half  a  mind  to  stop  here,  as  novel 
writers  do,  and  tell  you  the  result  next  time.;  however, 
it  turned  out  all  right.  It  was  the  other  side  of  Island 
No.  10  (we  thought  it  was  the  Tennessee  shore),  and 
it  was  our  own  men.  They  stopped  every  vessel,  firing 
a  blank  cartridge  across  the  bow,  as  some  suspicious 
boats  were  about,  probably.  It  was  Friday  night  (we 
left  Helena  on  Sunday)  when  we  reached  the  barracks, 


MARGARET   E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  Y3 

twelve  miles  from  here  (St.  Louis),  where  we  were  to  dis- 
charge our  sick,  but  we  did  not  send  them  ashore  till  the 
morning.  We  had  learned  to  feel  at  home  among  them, 
and  it  was  hard  to  bid  them  all  good-by.  We  had  seen 
many  sad  hours  together  on  that  wretched,  comfortless 
boat,  so  utterly  without  all  that  was  convenient  and 
comfortable,  so  miserably  dirty,  so  worn  out  and  tum- 
bling to  pieces,  but  it  had  not  made  us  love  them  less 
(that  would  not  be  nature),  that  we  had  suffered  for  them 
and  with  them,  and  so,  when  the  parting  came,  there  were 
touching  scenes.  They  thought  at  first  that  we  were 
to  be  with  them  and  take  care  of  them  in  the  hospital, 
and  seemed  to  feel  as  if  it  would  not  be  like  home  with- 
out us ;  but  we  promised  to  see  them  soon,  and  so, 
some  carried  down  on  stretchers,  and  some  led  by 
those  who  were  stronger,  and  some  trying  to  totter 
alone,  they  vanished  up  the  hill  and  into  the  cheerful 
pleasant  buildings  where  I  knew  they  would  find  friends 
and  tender  care,  o^othing  remained  to  remind  us  of 
what  had-  been,  but  four  white  shapes,  lying  silent  on 
the  deck,  four  of  our  boys  who  had  died  the  day  before 
and  whom  we  were  taking  to  be  buried  in  St.  Louis. 
In  a  few  moments,  too,  the  cabin  was  all  made  a  strange 
place  to  us,  the  beds  all  thrown  upon  the  shore  to  be 
emptied  and  washed,  the  tarpaulins  taken  up,  the  straw 
thrown  overboard.  It  hurt  me  to  see  it,  so  we  took 
our  bonnets  and  went  up  on  the  hurricane  deck,  to  take 
a  last  look  at  the  place  where  we  had  left  our  old  friends. 
It  was  a  soft  spring-like  morning,  and  from  the  shore, 
as  the  boat  passed  out  with  the  stream  again,  came  the 
lowing  of  the  cows.  I  don'tknow  what  subtle  associa- 
tion brought  Princeton  to  my  mind  like  a  flash.      1 

7 


T4  MEMORIAL    OF 

seemed  to  look  back  to  that  dear  old  town  as  if  it  were 
a  picture  spread  before  me.  All  the  happy  years  I  had 
spent  there  rose  up  as  if  they  were  yesterday  only.  It 
needed  only  this  to  break  my  heart  outright.  The  feel- 
ing of  anxiety  and  responsibility  that  I  had  become  ac- 
customed to  was  gone,  the  familiar  faces  were  no  more 
to  be  seen,  there  was  no  need  to  keep  up  any  longer, 
and  so  reaction  came.  I  have  told  you  what  I  thought 
would  interest  you  most,  and  did  not  want  to  tire  you. 
The  every-day  routine  was  all  the  same  ;  the  same  an- 
noyances ;  the  same  contrivances  and  devices  to  accom- 
plish a  great  deal  with  little  or  no  material.  I  shall 
think  now  that  in  everything  there  may  be  found  vast 
undeveloped  capacities.  That  boat  bad  an  amazing 
amount.  I  certainly  never  had  so  much  comfort  and 
satisfaction  in  anything  in  all  my  life,  and  the  tearful 
thanks  of  those' who  thought  in  their  gratitude  that  they 
owed  a  great  deal  more  to  us  than  they  did,  the  bless- 
ings breathed  from  dying  lips,  and  the  comfort  it  has 
been  to  friends  at  home  to  hear  all  about  the  last  sad 
hours  of  those  they  love,  and  know  their  dying  mes- 
sages of  love  to  them ;  all  this  is  a  rich  and  full  and 
overflowing  reward  for  any  labor  and  for  any  sacrifice. 
When  you  get  this  I  shall  be  on  my  way  down  the 
river  again,  and  will  write  from  there  if  I  can. 

Yours,  etc.,  •         m.  e.  b. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  75 

From  the  Princeton  Standard. 
Experience  in  the  Western  Hospital  Boat  Sei-vice. 

St.  Louis,  March,  18G3. 

I  m'  VE  been  sitting  leaning  my  head  on  my  hands 
for  the  last  half  hour,  trying  to  recall  the  most  striking 
incidents  of  the  last  week  of  sad  pleasure  which  I  spent 
on  the  hospital  boat  coming  up  from  Young's  Point, 
and  gleaning  from  my  life  among  the  soldiers  what  I 
think  will  interest  you  most  and  yet  will  not  depress 
you  too  much.  I  see  so  much  of  ''the  shady  side  of 
nature,"  and  know  so  well  what  it  is  to  be  haunted  for 
days  and  weeks  by  some  scene  of  heart-breaking  sad- 
ness, and  to  meet  it  in  my  dreams  whenever  I  close  my 
eyes,  that  I  like  to  bury  such  things  in  my  own  heart, 
and  save  others  the  pain  of  knowing  the  suffering  they 
cannot  relieve. 

If  you  should  ask  me  what  our  experience  was  on 
this  last  boat,  how  we  fared,  etc.,  I  should  answer  you 
as  the  soldiers  do  when  I  question  them  about  some 
campaign  of  special  hardship  :  "  It  was  pretty  tough, 
ma'am."  But  remember  I  don't  speak  of  it  for  one  mo- 
ment as  a  hardship.  I  knew  perfectly  well  when  I 
Histed  that  if  I  wanted  to  help  the  soldiers  I  must  rough 
it  with  them,  and  learn  to  suffer  as  they  did,  and  I  find 
I  can  stand  it  bravely ;  but  I  lack  one  important  equal- 
ity for  a  soldier.  /  cannot  eat  beans,  and  never  shall 
learn,  I  am  afraid.  ^ 

There  is  a  soldier's  song,  of  which  they  arc  very  fond, 


16  MEMORIAL    OF 

and  which  I  shall  copy  for  you  some  day,  one  verse  of 
which  often  comes  back  to  me  : 

"  So  I've  had  a  sight  of  drilling, 

And  I've  roughed  it  many  days  ; 
Yes,  and  death  has  nearly  had  me. 
Yet  I  think  the  service  pays." 

Indeed  it  does — richly,  abundantly,  blessedly,  and  I 
thank  God  that  he  has  honored  me  by  letting  me  do  a 
little  and  suffer  a  little  for  this  grand  old  Union  and  the 
dear,  brave  fellows  who  are  fighting  for  it. 

Long  before  Ave  reached  Young's  Point  the  boat  be- 
gan to  be  put  in  readiness  for  the  sick.  The  small  bed- 
steads, which  had  been  piled  in  the  middle  of  the  cabin, 
were  put  together  and  ranged  through  the  cabin  and 
along  the  guards  (which  were  boarded  in  all  round, 
with  windows  left  here  and  there),  and  down  on  the 
boiler-deck,  etc.,  and  we  were  ready  to  take  four  hundred 
or  more  if  necessary.  This  was  different  from  anything 
I  had  yet  experienced,  waiting  on  the  boat  to  welcome 
and  take  charge  of  the  poor  fellows  as  they  came.  Our 
boat  lay  at  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  where  it  was  the 
dryest,  and  the  long  train  of  ambulances  and  wagons  as 
they  stopped  at  the  landing  were  met  by  the  nurses 
from  our  boat,  bringing  stretchers  for  the  sickest,  or  a 
strong  arm  to  give  support  to  those  able  to  walk  a  mile ; 
and  so,  one  by  one,  the  places  were  all  filled,  and  faces 
that  soon  grew  familiar  looked  up  at  us  from  the  little 
bedsteads.  The  idea  of  having  a  woman's  care,  and  the 
constant  presence  of  a  woman's  face,  seemed  to  be  a 
glad  surprise.  One  poor  fellow,  who  had  been  lying 
quietly  watching  me  as  I  went  round  among  the  sick  in 
my  ward,  broke  out  at  last : 


MARGARET   E.   BRECKINRIDGE.  f? 

"  Oh  !  I  just  love  to  lie  here  and  look  at  you— it  puts 
me  in  mind  of  home  ;"  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  at 
the  remembrance  of  his  mother  and  sisters  away  off  in 
Iowa. 

"  I  am  very  sick,"  said  one  poor  fellow,  as  he  held 
my  hand  tight  in  both  his  own,  for  fear  I  might  slip 
away  from  him;  "I  am  too  weak  to  feed  myself.  Will 
you  take  me  under  your  care  and  not  let  me  suffer  ?" 

I  promised  him  I  would,  that  I  would  feed  him  al- 
ways myself;  and  so  he  closed  his  eyes  and  fell  asleep, 
saying,  "Yes,  I  know  you  will"  He  lived  but  a  day 
or  two,  and  always  met  me,  as  I  came  with  his  simple 
food,  with  such  a  grateful  look,  that  when  he  was  gone, 
and  his  place  vacant,  I  never  passed  by  it  when  I  could 
avoid  it,  I  missed  him  so.  But  for  him  the  change  was 
a  blessed  one.  It  was  not  long  before  he  died,  when  I 
was  talking  to  him  of  Christ  and  of  His  many  mansions 
waiting  for  us  all  in  heaven,  that  he  clasped  his  hands, 
and  with  his  eyes  gazing  upward  through  tears,  ex- 
claimed," Oh,  Jesus  !  precious  Jesus  !  what  should  I  do 
without  him  ?" 

I  have  never  seen  so  many  sick  men  together  who 
were  Christians,  and  this  was  an  unspeakable  comfort. 
I  remember  one  evening  in  particular,  when  some  very 
sick  men  had  come  on  board,  how  I  was  struck  by  the 
brightening  eyes,  the  eager,  hearty  response  that  came 
from  each  of  them  as  I  spoke  of  Christ's  love,  and  care, 
and  pity  for  all  who  are  in  trouble.  I  was  going  about 
with  some  hot  tea  to  revive  and  warm  them,  for  jt  was 
late  and  very  chilly,  and  as  I  gave  it  to  them  I  had  time 
for  a  few  words.  ,^ 

I  stopped  by  the  bed  of  one  poor  fellow  who  seemed 

7* 


78  MEMORIAL   OF 

too  low  almost  to  be  disturbed,  but  be  smiled  and  asked 
for  a  spoonful  or  two  of  tea,  and  seemed  so  revived  tbat 
I  ventured  to  say  a  few  words  to  him  too.  I  spoke  of 
his  being  so  far  from  home  and  friends,  and  then  I  tried 
to  point  him  to  that  Friend,  so  strong,  so  close,  so  ready 
to  help  and  comfort;  and  as  I  talked,  such  a  glory 
seemed  to  overspread  his  pale,  wasted  face,  that  I 
waited  for  him  to  speak. 

"  I  know  Him ;  oh  !  yes,  I  have  known  Him  for 
many  long  years,"  he  said.  "  I  went  away  and  left 
Him  once,  but, since  I  went  into  the  army  I  have  come 
back  to  Him,  and  He  has  helped  me  to  be  faithful,  and 
now,  oh  !  if  I  could  just  be  baptized." 

This  was  not  possible,  and  he  soon  became  satisfied 
that  faith  and  love  were  all  Christ  asked  of  him,  and 
then  he  begged  me  to  read  to  him  how  Christ  was  cru- 
cified for  sinners.  One  of  the  other  ladies,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  more  at  leisure,  read  to  him  as  he  had  de- 
sired, and  he  listened  eagerly  to  the  end,  but  before 
another  morning  he  was  dead  ;  he  had  seen  Jesus  as  he 
is.  I  am  often  touched  with  their  anxiety  not  to  give 
trouble — ''not  to  bother,^'  as  they  say.  That  same 
evening  I  found  a  poor  exhausted  fellow  lying  on  a 
stretcher,  on  which  he  had  just  been  brought  in.  There 
was  no  bed  for  him  just  then,  and  he  was  to  remain 
there  for  the  present,  and  looked  uncomfortable  enough 
with  his  knapsack  for  a  pillow. 

''I  know  some  hot  tea  will  do  you  good,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  he  answered,  "but  I  am  too  weak  to 
sit  up  with  nothing  to  lean  against ;  it's  no  matter — 
don't  bother  about  me,"  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  long- 
ingly on  the  smoking  tea. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  ^9 

Everybody  was  busy,  not  even  a  nurse  in  sight,  but 
the  poor  man  must  have  his  tea.  T  pushed  away  the 
knapsack,  raised  his  head  and  seated  myself  on  the  end 
of  the  stretcher ;  and,  as  I  drew  his  poor  tired  head 
back  upon  my  shoulder  and  half  held  him,  he  seemed, 
with  all  his  pleasure  and  eager  enjoyment  of  the  tea,  to 
be  troubled  at  my  being  so  bothered  with  him.  He 
forgot  I  had  come  so  many  hundred  miles  on  purpose 
to  be  ''bothered."  And  so  it  was  very  often.  They 
would  lie  and  suffer  for  anything  rather  than  disturb  us 
if  we  seemed  very  much  occupied. 

There  was  in  each  ward,  of  course,  every  variety  of 
complaint  and  condition.  There  were  some  in  mine 
who  tossed  and  moaned  in  constant  delirium,  and  never 
knew  me,  though  they  would  stop  me  with  some 
anxious  entreaty  or  some  frightened  question  whenever 
I  came  near  them  ;  and  to  me  this  was  unspeakably  dis- 
tressing, to  see  these  strong,  athletic  men  brought  down 
so  low,  terrified  like  children  with  the  idlest  fancies  and 
begging  me  to  help  them.  There  were  many  who  sank 
away  from  day  to  day,  always  saying,  "  I  am  better,  if 
I  was  only  not  so  weak,"  and  died,  still  chnging  to  this 
dream  of  being  well  again.  There  were  some  who 
were  able  to  totter  round  a  little,  if  the  day  was  mild, 
and  there  were  a  few  who  were  called  my  "  Hungry 
Brigade."  They  were  free  from  sickness,  some  of  them 
going  home  discharged,  and  needed  stronger  and  more 
abundant  food  than  I  gave  the  others.  Here  the  stores 
I  had  brought  with  me  came  into  play.  I  had^some 
condensed  meat,  some  crackers  and  jellies,  and  many  a 
surreptitious  dinner  was  conveyed  from  my  trunk  to 
their  beds  or  state-rooms,  for  fear  the  poor  fellows  too 


80  MEMORIAL   OF 

sick  to  be  allowed  such  food  should  clamor  for  it  and 
have  to  be  denied.  Before  they  found  out  that  I  had 
stores  of  my  own,  and  a  sympathy  for  hungry  people, 
they  must  have  suffered  a  good  deal.  "  I  tell  you  what, " 
said  one  of  them  to  me  afterward,  ''the  first  day  I 
liked  to  have  died  for. something  more  to  eat,  but  I  just 
thought  I'd  stick  it  through,  and  I  did." 

One  night  we  had  an  awful  storm,  and  the  rain 
dashed  through  the  roof  and  kept  the  beds  so  wet  I  was 
in  despair.  Fortunately  we  had  a  good  many  yards  of 
India-rubber  cloth,  which  we  cut  into  lengths  and  spread 
over  them.  These  had  to  be  moved  continually  to  meet 
the  new  streams  which  trickled  down  in  fresh  places 
every  moment.  I  was  very  anxious  about  some  who 
had  high  fevers,  but  fortunately  they  seemed  not  to  suf- 
fer any  ill  effects  ;  and  just  as  we  were  all  worn  out, 
and  the  poor  men  were  tired  of  lying  with  their  heads 
under  the  blankets  (for  the  leaks  were  very  often  right 
over  their  faces,  and  they  had  to  cover  their  heads), 
just  then  the  rain  ceased  and  we  went  to  our  state- 
rooms to  find  them  almost  overflowed  too.  The  boat 
had  been  fitted  up,  but  the  roof  had  not  been  thoroughly 
repaired,  and  after  a  boat  has  been  used  as  a  transport 
it  will  leak. 

We  lost  twenty-one  coming  up,  and  some  who  were 
very  low  when  we  left  the  boat  must  have- died  since. 
They  were  all  discharged  at  Memphis,  according  to 
orders  received  from  the  Medical  Director  at  Young's 
Point.  I  longed  to  bring  them  on  with  us,  so  that  we 
might  still  have  Avatched  over  them,  but  there  was 
plenty  of  room — and,  they  said,  good  care — in  the 
Memphis  hospitals,  and  the  soldiers  promised  to  write 
and  tell  us  how  they  fared. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  81 

''And  don't  you  all  live  in  Memphis  ?"  they  asked, 
"  and  won't  you  take  care  of  us  in  the  hospital  ?  and 
will  we  never  see  you  again  ?" 

This  is  the  hardest  of  all ;  to  leave  them  to  the  care 
of  others  just  as  we  are  learning  to  know  them  and  to 
know  what  they  need  and  what  they  like.  I  had  one 
patient,  a  convalescent,  who  was  a  fine  fellow,  and  so 
trustworthy  that  since  he  had  regained  his  strength  he 
had  been  of  invaluable  service  to  me.  I  could  leave  him 
the  food  or  stimulant  to  give  to  the  sickest  men  when  I 
had  other  things  to  do,  and  know  that  he  would  give  it 
faithfully  and  take  the  best  care  of  them.  Just  l)efore 
we  parted  he  came  to  me  with  a  little  note,  which  he 
handed  me  without  a  word.  "  Read  it  at  your  leisure, '* 
he  said,  when  I  asked  him  what  it  was.  It  contained  a 
few  honest,  touching;  simple  words  of  thanks,  written  in 
the  name  of  all  the  sick  in  my  ward,  and  you  may  well 
imagine  it  is  a  greater  treasure  to  me  than  an  autograph 
letter  from  the  greatest  man  on  earth  would  be. 

There' is  one  aspect  of  the  Avar  that  saddens  me  more 
and  more  every  time  I  see  it.  It  is  the  wrecks  and 
shadows  it  leaves,  instead  of  the  strong  athletic  men 
that  left  their  homes  so  little  time  ago.  And  all  are  so 
patient,  so  cheerful,  and  often  so  full  of  fire  and  enthu- 
siasm, and  I  have  never  heard  one  word  of  regret  that 
they  had  come. 

I  expected  to  have  been  on  my  way  down  again  be- 
fore this,  but  we  have  been  detained  by  various  things 
and  are  ready  to  start  as  soon  as  everyting  is^  ready, 
but  it  may  not  be  until  there  is  a  battle  either  down  the 
river  or  in  Tennessee.  ^ 

I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  told  you  how  much  I 


82  MEMORIAL   OF 

am  amused  by  the  curiosity  of  people  as  to  how  much 
salary  I  get,  and  how  often  I  am  assailed  Avith  the 
question,  ''How  much  do  you  get  a  month?"  At  first 
I  was  indignant,  now  I  laugh  over  it. 

If  I  go  down  the  river  I  will  write  again,  and  in  the 
mean  time  I  have  enough  to  keep  me  busy  with  the  sick 
at  the  barracks,  where  I  still  visit,  and  where  I  have 
been  distributing  lately  the  "currant  wine"  from 
Princeton.     Yours,  etc.,  m.  e.  b. 


From  the  Buffalo  Express. 
Our  Soldiers— Their  Friends  and  Their  Enemies  at  Home. 

BY    A    LADY    NURSE. 

When  I  left  the  soldiers  .this  spring,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  unfit  any  longer  for  active  service  among  them,  I 
told  them  I  felt  sure  I  would  find  something  still  to  do 
for  them,  and  I  am  thankful  that  it  has  proved  so. 
Among  my  pleasantest  offices  has  been  this  of  writing 
about  them,  trying  to  speak  a  word  for  those  who  have 
done  so  much  for  us  that  every  heart  should  "  delight  to 
honor"  them.  Nothing  in  all  my  experience  among 
them  struck  me  more  than  the  longing  with  which  they 
turn  for  sympathy  and  encouragement  to  the  people  at 
home,  and  especially,  as  they  say,  to  the  "women  at 
home."  "  What  do  they  think  of  us  at  home  ?"  "What 
are  the  women  at  home  saying  about  us,  and  what  are 
they  doing  for  us  ?"  These  were  the  questions  first 
upon  their  hps.     It  was  pleasant  then  to  point  them  to 


MARGARET   E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  83 

the  hospital  stores  with  which  our  boat  was  loaded,  and 
say,  "  This  is  what  the  women  at  home  think  of  you ; 
this  is  what  they  are  doing  for  you."  We  might  have 
told  them,  but  we  did  not,  how  many  at  home  were 
lukewarm  and  indifferent,  or  even  worse ;  how  many 
are  living  in  peace  and  security  in  their  quiet  homes,  so 
far  from  the  war  that  the  stories  of  suffering  and  blood- 
shed seem  to  them  like  idle  tales.  We  might  have 
told  them,  but  we  did  not,  how  entirely  such  people 
have  forgotten  the  soldiers,  never  rousing  themselves 
to  think  that  it  is  only  that  living  wall  of  brave  men 
and  those  banks  of  green  graves  that  are  seen  on  every 
plain  and  hillside  that  stand  between  our  homes  and 
the  enemy,  and  keep  those  very  scenes  of  suffering  and 
bloodshed  from  our  hearthstones.  Oh  !  it  is  hard  that 
the  very  peace  and  safety  which  the  soldiers  have  bought 
for  us  with  their  blood,  should  be  the  cause  of  our  for- 
getting them  so  often  in  their  need. 

Those  only  w^ho  have  been  among  them  month  after 
month,  know  what  it  costs  them  to  fight  our  battles  and 
save  our  country. 

And  yet  they  ask  nothing  from  us  as  aright.  Every- 
thing we  do  for  them  they  receive  with  the  deepest 
gratitude.  *'  Why  do  you  take  so  much  trouble  for  us  ?" 
they  asked  us  while  nursing  them.  "  We  are  trying  to 
repay  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  us,"  we  told  them. 
"  Why,  what  did  we  ever  do  for  you  ?"  And  then  we 
reminded  them  that  it  was  to  save  our  country  they 
had  fought  and  been  wounded,  that  it  was  for  us  they 
had  lain  all  night  upon  the  soaking  ground  ready  for 
the  morning  march,  or  had  stood  for  hcnirs  in  rain  and 
snow  as  pickets  on  some  dangerous  outpost.    When  we 


84  MEMORIAL   OF 

told  them  this,  they  said,  ''Yes,  that  is  true,  but  we 
never  thought  of  it  before."  It  is  touching  to  see  their 
enthusiastic  reception  of  those  who  come  to  take  care 
of  them,  and  the  child-hke  confidence  with  which  they 
cast  themselves  upon  our  willingness  and  ability  to  help 
them.  "  Oh,  boys  !"  said  a  little  fellow  to  his  sick  com- 
panions, as  the  nurses  were  bringing  them  into  our 
boat,  "oh,  boys !  it  is  all  right  now,  for  the  women  have 
come  down  to  look  after  us."  He  told  us  afterward, 
with  a  quivering  lip,  how  his  heart  had  bounded  at  the 
sight  of  a  woman,  for,  "we  knew  that  they  had  not  for- 
gotten us  at  home,"  he  said,  "when  we  saw  they  had 
sent  you  down  to  take  care  of  us." 

This  is  their  dread — to  be  forgotten.  "  We  are  not 
discontented,"  they  often  say  to  us;  "we  are  willing  to 
bear  all  these  hardships,  and  we  never  mean  to  come 
home  till  this  thing  is  over,  but  we  do  want  the  people 
at  honie  to  strengthen  and  encourage  us." 

The  soldiers  look  for  this  now  more  than  ever,  when 
home  traitors  are  so  busy  trying  to  shake  our  confidence 
in  them  and  theirs  in  us.  I  wish  I  could  give  you  some 
faint  idea  of  the  indignation  the  soldiers  feel  toward  the 
copperheads.  "Their  treason  only  makes  us  stand  the 
firmer,  and  fight  the  better,"  they  say ;  "for  it  shows  us 
that  we  must  make  haste  and  crush  the  rebels  and  then 
come  home  and  punish  the  copperheads.  .  Let  them 

wait  till  the  war  is  over,"  they  say,  "  and  then " 

finishing  the  sentence  with  expressive  looks  and  ges- 
tures. They  keep  a  list  of  the  copperheads  in  their 
own  States,  and  this  is  well,  for  in  a  few  years  from 
now,  when  the  old  flag  is  floating  from  the  Lakes  to  the 
Gulf,'  we  shall  need  some  proof  in  black  and  white  of 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  85 

the  treason  of  those  who  will  then  call  Heaven  to  wit- 
ness their  unwavering  and  devoted  patriotism  ;  but  the 
stain  of  their  dishonor  will  cleave  to  them  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  as  even  at  this  day  it  does  to  the 
tories  of  the  Revolution. 

I  will  give  you  one  instance,  among  the  hundreds  I 
have  known,  of  their  perfidious  policy  toward  our  sol- 
diers. One  of  our  Western  soldiers,  the  only  son  of  a 
loyal  father,  was  ill  at  Young's  Point,  and  about  the 
time  I  was  there,  his  cousin  came  down  to  see  him,  and 
when  he  was  able  to  bear  the  journey,  to  take  him 
home  on  furlough.  He  soon  began  to  gain  strength, 
his  fever  left  him — he  was  pronounced  out  of  danger 
and  well  enough  to  go  home  by  the  next  boat.  Soon 
after  his  cousin  came,  and  brought  him  a  letter,  which 
proved  to  be  from  his  uncle,  a  notorious  copperhead, 
and  it  was  worthy  of  him.  It  began  in  the  usual  style, 
deploring  the  iniquity  of  this  abolition  war,  lamenting 
that  his  nephew  had  ever  taken  any  part  in  it,  and 
urging  him  that,  as  he  was  disgraced  enough  already  by 
his  connection  with  it,  he  should  instantly  wash  his 
hands  of  the  whole  thing  and  come  home,  adding  that 
his  father  agreed  with  him  entirely,  and  urged  him  to 
give  up  and  come  home.  "  It  is  false,"  said  the  poor 
boy,  starting  up  ;  "  it  is  false,  and  he  knows  it,"  and  he 
took  another  letter  from  under  his  pillow.  "  Here  is  one 
from  my  father  written  since  that  was,  though  it  came 
sooner,  and  see  what  he  says  :  *  My  son,  I  love  you  better 
than  anything  on  earth,  but  I  would  rather  see  you  dead 
than  that  you  should  desert  your  post  at  such  a  time 
as  this;'  and  this  is  the  way,"  said  the  poor  fellow, 
"this  is  the  way  we  are  to  be  treated  by  sucli*  traitors 

8 


86  MEMORIAL   OF 

as  my  uncle,  when  we  come  down  here  to  fight  and  die 
for  our  country."  It  was  impossible  to  pacify  him; 
his  fever  returned ;  he  sank  rapidly,  and  in  a  few  hours 
was  dead,  killed  by  a  copperhead.  This  is  no  fiction. 
A  dozen  witnesses  can  prove  it,  and  the  letter  is  still 
held  in  proper  hands,  to  bear  testimony  to  the  death  of 
that  poor  boy,  whose  body  came  up  the  river  on  its  way 
to  his  poor  father,  at  the  same  time  that  I  did. 

And  if  brave  men  ever  needed  and  deserved  our 
warmest  support,  it  is  now.  The  wounded  and  dying, 
are  calling  to  us  for  help  from  the  victorious  battle-fields 
of  Pennsylvania,  and  from  the  intrenchments  of  Port 
Hudson,  in  a  climate  where  disease  and  death  have 
these  summer  months  for  a  carnival  season ;  and  the 
brave  men  who  have  endured  every  hardship  for  so 
many  months  that  they  might  plant  our  flag  on  the  hills 
at  Yicksburg,  will  need  our  care  still.  Of  all  who  have 
filled  soldiers'  graves  since  the  war  commenced,  the  vast 
proportion  have  died  from  sickness.  At  Young's  Point, 
last  winter,  we  found  12,000  sick.  At  Helena,  there 
were  5000  soldiers'  graves,  of  whom  scarcely  any  were 
wounded  men. 

And  then  one  other  thing  we  too  often  forget — what 
these  men  are,  for  whom  our  help  is  so  often  asked. 
Are  they,  as  home  traitors  would  have  us  believe,  tired 
of  their  country's  service,  discontented  with  the  admin- 
istration, and  so  sick  of  the  war  that  they  are  ready 
for  peace  on  any  terms  ?  There  may  be  a  few  such 
men  in  the  army.  To  those  of  us  who  know  how  our 
soldiers  are  tampered  with  by  these  very  home  traitors, 
it  would  seem  wonderful  if  there  were  not,  but  with 
such  exceptions,  the  slander  is  utterly  and  entirely  false. 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  8T 

We  have  an  army  of  brave  and  earnest  patriots,  and 
the  history  of  every  battle  abounds  in  facts  to  prove 
it  From  among  the  hundreds  of  touching  stories  I 
could  tell  you,  I  will  single  just  this  one  for  an  exam- 
ple, and  such  examples  are  met  with  every  day  in  our 
hospitals. 

Soon  after  the  capture  of  one  of  the  rebel  forts  in  the 
West,  a  lady  went  into  the  hospital  where  the  wounded 
had  been  taken.  She  was  much  attracted  to  two  young 
men,  lying  side  by  side,  all  splintered  and  bandaged,  so 
that  they  could  not  move  hand  or  foot,  but  so  cheerful 
and  happy  looking,  that  she  said : 

"Why,  boys,  you  look  very  bright  to-day  !" 

"Oh,  yes!''  they  said,  "we  have  been  moved  this 
morning." 

And  she  found  that  for  six  long  weeks  they  had  lain 
in  one  position,  and  for  the  first  time  that  morning  had 
been  moved  to  the  other  side  of  their  cot. 

"And  were  you  among  those  poor  boys,"  she  asked, 
"  who  were  left  lying  where  you  fell  that  bitter  morn- 
ing till  you  froze  fast  to  the  ground  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  they  said ;  "  we  were  lying  there  two 
days.  You  know  they  had  no  time  to  attend  to  us, 
they  had  to  go  and  take  the  fort." 

"And  didn't  you  think  it  very  cruel  in  them  to  leave 
you  to  suffer  so  long?" 

"Why,  no,  ma'am!  we  wanted  them  to  go  on  and 
take  the  fort." 

"But  when  they  took  it,  you  were  in  too  much  agony 
to  know  or  care  for  it  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  ma'am  !"  they  answered,  with  flashing  eyes 
and  faces  glowing  with  the  recollections  of  ttat  day, 


88  MEMORIAL   OF 

"there  were  a  whole  lot  of  us  wounded  fellows  on  the 
hillside  watching  to  see  if  they  would  get  the  fort  ; 
when  we  saw  they  had  it,  every  one  of  us  that  had  a 
whole  arm  waved  it  in  the  air,  and  we  hurrahed  till  the 
air  rang  again." 

Oh  !  think  of  that  scene,  that  hillside  of  wounded 
men,  forgetting  their  own  agony  to  cheer  on  their  com- 
rades and  hurrah  for  the  victory  !  It  is  such  cheerful 
patience,  such  heroic  fortitude  as  this,  that  I  have  seen 
from  day  to  day  in  my  hospital  life.  Can  we  do  too 
much  for  such  men  ?  No,  we  can  never  do  half  enough. 
And  as  they  never  rest  in  their  labors  and  sufferings  for 
us,  we  must  never  rest  in  working  for  them  till  the  war 
is  over,  and  the  few  who  are  left  come  home  to  us 
again. 

Yours  truly,  M.  E.  B. 


Early  in  March  slie  returned  to  St.  Louis,  ex- 
pecting to  make  anotlier  trip;  but  happily  some 
circumstances  prevented  it,  and  she  remained  in 
that  city  with  a  troublesome  cough  and  disease 
threatening,  but  still  able  to  do  the  home  work 
in  the  hospitals  and  among  the  refugees. 

We  will  insert  a  few  stanzas  written  about  this 
time  for  the  Princeton  Standard,  which  record  the 
experience  of  many  of  our  patriotic  women : 


MARGARET    E    BRECKINRIDGE.  89 


Knitting  for  the  Soldiers. 

Here  I  sit  at  the  same  old  work, 

Knitting  and  knitting  from  daylight  till  dark; 

Thread  over  and  under  and  back  and  through, 

Knitting  socks  for— I  don't  know  who; — 

But  in  fancy  I've  seen  him,  and  talked  with  him  too. 

He  is  no  hero  of  gentle  birth ; 
He's  little  in  rank,  but  he's  much  in  worth  ; 
He's  plain  of  speech  and  strong  of  limb ; 
He's  rich  in  heart,  but  he's  poor  of  kin ; 
There  are  none  at  home  to  work  for  him. 

He  set  his  lips  with  a  start  and  a  frown. 

When  he  heard  that  the  dear  old  flag  was  shot  down 

From  the  walls  of  Fort  Sumter,  and  flinging  away 

His  tools  and  his  apron,  stopped  but  to  say 

To  his  comrades,  "I'm  going,  whoever  may  stay," 

And  was  'listed  and  gone  by  the  close  of  the  day. 

And  whether  he  watches  to-night  on  the  sea, 
Or  kindles  his  camp-fire  on  "  lone  Tybee," 
By  river  or  mountain,  wherever  he  be, 
I  know  he's  the  noblest  of  all  that  are  there ; 
The  promptest  to  do  and  the  bravest  to  dare; 
The  strongest  in  trust  and  the  last  in  despair. 

So  here  I  sit  at  the  same  old  work, 
Knitting  socks  for  the  soldiers  from  daylight  till  dark, 
And  whispering  low,  as  the  thread  flies  through, » 
To  him  who  shall  wear  them,— I  don't  know  who  :— 
"Ah,  soldier,  fight  bravely,  be  patient,  be  true,^ 
For  some  one  is  knitting  and  praying  for  you." 
8* 


90  MEMORIAL   OF 

In   a   letter  to  lier  family,  written  from  St. 

Louis,  she  says: 

"  I  shall  soon  now  turn  my  face  Eastward,  and  I  have 
more  and  more  to  do  as  my  time  here  grows  shorter.  I 
have  been  at  the  hospital  every  day  this  week,  and  at 
the  Government  rooms,  where  we  prepare  the  Govern- 
ment work  for  the  poor  women,  four  hundred  of  whom 
we  supply  with  work  every  week.  I  have  also  a  family 
of  refugees  to  look  after,  so  I  do  not  lack  employment." 

She  had  determined  to  spend  the  summer 
among  her  friends  at  the  East  for  rest  and  re- 
cuperation, and  in  the  autumn  to  return  and  fix 
herself,  while  the  war  lasted,  in  one  of  the  West- 
ern hospitals,  where  she  could  be  entirely  devoted 
to  the  work  which  she  so  much  loved.  But  it 
was  not  so  to  be.  Her  strength  was  almost 
spent,  and  a  willing  heart  was  all  that  she  now 
had  to  offer. 

About  the  middle  of  May,  Miss  Breckinridge 
left  St.  Louis  and  spent  a  fortnight  at  Chicago, 
with  her  friend  Mrs.  Hoge,  who  had  been  with 
her  on  the  river,  and  who  now  claimed  her  as- 
sistance in  making  their  experiences  useful  to 
the  home  work,  by  visiting  among  the  Ladies' 
Aid  Societies  in  the  neighborhood  of  that  city. 
A  letter,  written   by  this   friend  nearly  a  3^ear 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  91 

afterward,  recalls  some  interesting  and  character- 
istic incidents: 

March  13th,  18G5. 
My  DEAR  Friend  : — 

An  interview  to-day  with  a  loved  and  loving  relative 
of  our  sainted  friend,  Margaret  E.  Breckinridge,  has 
vividly  recalled  some  scenes  of  her  hospital  life. 
Brightly  as  she  shone  elsewhere,  I  still  think  she  was 
nowhere  so  peerless  as  in  the  midst  of  the  "boys  in 
blue,"  cheering,  soothing,  and  nursing  them.  I  stood 
beside  her  one  day  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  soldiers, 
on  a  steamer  in  the  rear  of  Vicksburg,  during  the  fear- 
ful winter  siege  of  that  rebellious  city.  Even  the  de- 
voted band  of  women  who  had  gone  down  to  nurse  the 
sick  and  suffering  soldiers  in  that  dreary  place,  felt  that 
she  outstripped  all  ih  her  devotion,  and  was  gaining  a 
martyr's  crown  almost  too  soon.  One  present  chided 
her  and  said  : 

"You  must  holdback,  you  are  going  beyond  your 
strength;  you  will  die  if  you  are  not  more  prudent !" 

Her  slender  form  dilated,  and  her  keen  eye  sparkled 
with  sublime  earnestness  as  she  said,  "  Well,  Avhat  if  I 
do  ?  Shall  men  come  here  by  tens  of  thousands  and 
fight,  and  suffer,  and  die,  and  shall  not  some  women  be 
willing  to  die  to  sustain  and  succor  them  ?" 

The  thrill  of  joy  that  her  remark  gave  was  not  con- 
fined to  those  that  heard  it  from  her  lips.  A  good  man 
who  stood  by  told  it  at  the  prayer-meeting  of  the  sol- 
diers that  same  night.  It  brought  forth  tears  and  bless- 
ings, and  her  name  and  spirit  became  the  watchword 
and  strengthener  of  many  a  brave  heart  and  strong  arm. 
Many  a  prayer  was  offered  for  the  heroic  little  army 


92  MEMORIAL    OF 

nurse,  and  if  earnest  petitions  could  have  altered  the 
fiat  of  the  Almighty,  our  beloved  young  friend  would 
not  now  be  singing  the  new  song  and  wearing  the  mar- 
tyr's crown. 

It  has  been  my  privilege  to  know  many  devoted 
women  in  our  American  hospitals,  but  I  can  truly  say 
no  one  has  impressed  me  as  she  did.  Her  fragile  form, 
beaming  face,  musical  voice,  and  youthful  appearance 
were  wonderfully  fascinating  to  the  soldiers.  Her 
transparent  purity  and  simple  dignity  awed  them,  and, 
as  I  have  followed  her  from  cot  to  cot,  I  have  heard, 
after  she  had  passed,  the  outburst  of  a  soldier's  enthu- 
siastic gratitude  again  and  again. 

"Ain't  she  an  angel?"  said  a  gray-headed  veteran  to 
me  as  I  followed  her  on  the  steamer  "  City  of  Alton," 
to  assist  her  in  giving  the  boys  their  breakfast.  "  She 
never  seems  to  tire,  she  is  always  smiling,  and  don't 
seem  to  walk — she  flies,  all  but — God  bless  her!" 

Said  another,  a  fair  boy  of  seventeen  summers,  as 
she  smoothed  his  hair  and  told  him,  with  glistening 
eyes,  he  would  soon  see  his  mother  and  the  old  home- 
stead, and  be  won  back  to  life  and  health,  "  Ma'am, 
where  do  you  come  from  ?  How  could  such  a  lady  as 
you  are  come  down  here  to  take  care  of  us  poor,  sick, 
dirty  boys  ?" 

Said  she,  ''  I  consider  it  an  honor  to  wait  on  you,  and 
wash  off  the  mud  you've  waded  through  for  me." 

''  Said  another,  "  Lady,  please  write  down  your  name 
and  let  me  look  at  it,  and  take  it  home,  to  show  my  wife 
who  wrote  my  letters  and  combed  my  hair  and  fed  me. 
I  don't  believe  you're  like  other  people." 

And  then,  as  she  passed  on,  they  would  fold  their 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  93 

hands  and  say,  "  God  bless  her  and  spare  her  hfe."  He 
did,  till  her  Avork  was  done,  and  then  she  was  not,  for 
God  took  her.  Her  years  of  army  life  might  count  four- 
score in  usefulness  and  blessings.  They  must  not  be 
measured  as  we  count  time. 

In  her  tour  of  a  week  with  me,  through  the  North- 
west, to  visit  the  Aid  Societies,  her  earnestness  and 
whole-souled  devotion  to  the  soldiers'  interests  overcame 
her  timidity,  and  she  was  induced  to  tell  some  interest- 
ing facts  concerning  the  sufferings  of  the  soldiers  and 
loyal  people  in  the  border  States.  Her  memory  is  fra- 
grant now  among  these  simple-hearted,  patriotic  people. 
She  stirred  them  up  to  increased  labor,  and  the  mention 
of  her  name,  and  allusion  to  her  death,  brings  forth  tears, 
often  sobs,  from  those  who  only  saw  and  heard  her 
once,  but  they  loved  her.  She  looked  beyond  the  sur- 
face and  loved  and  valued  them. 

She  plead  her  own  cause  eloquently  when  admon- 
ished to  rest  from  her  hospital  work.  She  had  counted 
the  cost  -and  stood  ready  to  die,  if  need  be,  as  the  hero 
in  the  front  ranks  of  battle. 

I  saw  her  last  in  Philadelphia  in  June,  1864.  The 
frail  tenement  of  her  soaring  spirit  was  tottering.  The 
pins  were  being  removed  surely,  but  noiselessly.  Her 
great  grief  was  that  she  was  laid  aside  from  work,  just, 
as  she  said,  when  she  was  learning  to  do  it  so  much  better. 
Her  great  desire  to  recover  was  that  she  might  labor 
till  the  war  was  over.  None  of  us  realized  that  she 
was  so  near  her  rest.  Her  croAvn  of  rejoicing  must, 
methinks,  be  richly  studded  with  immortal  souls*,  for  in 
her  army  work  she  preached  Christ  and  him  crucified. 
Her  Christ-like  self-abnegation  and  devotion  s'fealed  her 


94  MEMORIAL   OF 

exhortations,  and  I  doubt  not  led  many  to  the  New 
Jerusalem,  where  they  were  waiting  and  have  received 
her  now.  God  grant  the  beautiful,  inspiring  lesson  of 
her  life  and  death  may  not  be  lost  to  those  left  behind. 
Yours  truly,  j.  c.  h. 

Early  in  June  of  that  year,  Miss  Breckinridge 
reached  I^iagara,  on  her  way  to  the  East,  and 
spent  there  nearly  the  whole  of  the  month :  still 
at  work  in  the  way  of  giving  information  and 
encouragement  to  the  loyal  women  of  that  neigh- 
borhood, but  feeble  and  exhausted,  and,  for  the 
first  time,  obliged  in  a  measure  to  yield  to  her 
mfirmities.  She  wrote:  "They  tell  me  I  look 
tired  all  the  time,  and  so  I  feel.  I  am  never 
hardly  fresh  and  bright,  but  hope  I  shall  be  a 
great  deal  better  when  I  get  to  Princeton."  And 
again,  when  speaking  of  her  physician:  ''He 
says  that  I  will  soon,  he  thinks,  be  well  and 
strong,  and  able  to  go  back  to  the  hospitals  in 
the  fall." 

The  year  that  followed  this  time,  bjought  to 
her  only  a  succession  of  these  hopes  doomed  to 
disappointment;  like  phantoms  receding,  as  day 
after  day  brought  but  little  relief  to  her  feeble 
frame,  yet  only  receding;  for  it  was  always  the 
goal  toward  which   she  looked,  and   her  spirit 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  95 

chafed  at  the  long  delay.  Everything  that  phy- 
sicians or  friends  could  suggest  was  tried  for  her 
relief.  She  spent  some  weeks  at  the  sea-shore, 
and  for  a  time  the  air  and  bathing  seemed  to 
give  her  strength;  but  she  received  no  perma- 
nent benefit,  and  the  poison  still  lurked  in  her 
veins.  The  winter  was  spent  in  Philadelphia, 
waiting,  amidst  the  kind  attentions  of  old  friends 
and  new,  for  the  health  so  much  desired  but 
never  to  return. 

Another  spring  came,  and,  though  still  unable 
to  make  much  exertion,  she  determined  to  put  in 
execution  a  plan  that  had  engaged  her  thoughts 
during  the  winter,  as  one  which  would  prepare 
her  for  greater  skill  and  usefulness  in  the  army 
hospitals  whenever  she  might  be  able  to  resume 
her  place  there. 

A  letter  from  a  friend  much  endeared  to  Miss 
Breckinridge  by  being  associated  in  this  under- 
taking, and  by  the  hospitality  and  kind  atten- 
tion with  which  she  and  her  family  sootlicd  tlie 
hours  of  sickness  and  sorrow,  gives  an  interest- 
ing sketch  of  this  portion  of  her  work : 


96  MEMORIAL   OF 

Phila.,  May  5,  1865. 
My  dear  Friend  : — 

This  day  is  full  of  sweet  memories  of  your  dear  Mar- 
garet, as  it  is  the  anniversary  of  the  day  she  entered 
upon  her  brief  residence  at  the  Episcopal  Hospital,  a 
residence  which  she  purposed  should  extend  to  three 
months;  before  the  termination  of  that  short  period 
her  labors  on  earth  were  over,  and  she  had  been  received 
by  a  loving  Saviour  into  that  "home  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens,"  where  is  no  sorrow  or 
suffering,  "the  inhabitants  whereof  shall  not  say  I  am 
sick." 

I  had  often  heard  Margaret  spoken  of  by  friends  who 
loved  and  admired  her,  but  I  never  met  her  till  she  came 
to  talk  with  me  of  her  wish  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  the 
Episcopal  Hospital,  that  she  might  acquire  more  expe- 
rience in  nursing,  especially  in  surgical  cases,  so  that  in 
the  autumn,  she  could  resume  her  work  of  love  among 
the  soldiers  more  efficiently  and  confidently  than  before. 
But,  beside  this,  she  expressed  an  earnest  desire  to  do 
what  she  could  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  patients 
in  our  hospital,  hoping  in  the  time  spent  there  to  acquire 
more  facility  in  speaking  for  Christ,  and  more  famiharity 
in  dispensing  religious  truth  than  she  then  had.  Her 
ardent  desire  was  to  work  for  Christ  in  the  noble  army 
which  was  fighting  in  a  cause  only  second  in  her  heart's 
affection  to  the  cause  of  the  Saviour  himself 

She  came  to  the  hospital  a  year  ago  ;  lovely  in  form 
and  feature,  full  of  animation  and  enthusiasm,  over- 
flowing with  sympathy  and  tenderness.  In  her  presence 
there  was  always  sunshine,  and  her  bright  spirit  tinged 
and  influenced  all  about  her. 


MARGARET    E.   BRKCKINRI IHIE.  97 

I  SO  rejoiced  to  welcome  her  as  a  helper,  and,  hoping 
against  hope,  I  indulged  sometimes  in  the  vision  that 
she  might  identify  herself  permanently  with  us.  That 
evening  I  had  a  Mother's  Meeting  of  about  thirty  poor 
women  from  the  neighborhood,  who  were  in  the  habit 
of  bringing  their  sewing  and  thus  occupying  themselves, 
while  I  spoke  to  them  individually  or  read  aloud.  Here 
Margaret  was  at  once  at  home,  talking  to  these  poor 
women  of  their  interests,  domestic  and  eternal,  sympa- 
thizing with  their  troubles,  and  leading  them  to  Him 
who  alone  could  bear  their  heavy  burdens.  She  was  a 
great  help  to  me  every  Wednesday  afterward,  and  won 
the  hearts  of  these  people  as  those  only  can  who  know 
how  to  "condescend  to  men  of  low  degree." 

Here  was  one  great  secret  of  her  usefulness ;  she  had 
the  power  of  adaptation  in  her  intercourse  with  her 
inferiors,  happily  blending  that  dignity  which  inspired 
them  with  respect,  with  that  gentle  sympathy  which 
won  for  her  their  gratitude  and  love. 

We  sat  together  in  her  room  till  midnight,  inter- 
changing views  and  plans  for  Christian  usefulness,  and 
then  together  poured  out  our  united  supplications  for 
the  blessing  of  our  Heavenly  Father  upon  us,  co-laborers 
in  the  hospital.  Margaret  often  alluded  to  this  after- 
ward, saying,  she  had  felt  it  to  be  a  consecration  of  her 
work  then,  and  I  felt  we  were  no  longer  strangers,  but 
of  one  heart  and  one  mind  in  Christ  Jesus.  Without 
delay  she  began  to  interest  herself  in  the  patients, 
spending  an  hour  or  two  in  the  morning,  following  the 
surgical  nurse,  who  instructed  her  in  the  best  mode  of 
bandaging  and  treating  the  various  wounds.  She  was 
not  satisfied  with  seeing  this,  but  often  wJlshed  and 

9 


98  MEMORIAL   OF 

dressed  the  wounds  with  her  own  hands,  saying  to  me 
with  her  bright  smile,  "I  shall  be  able  to  do  this  for  the 
soldiers  when  I  get  back  to  the  army."  The  patients 
could  not  understand  this,  and  would  often  expostulate, 
and  say,  "  Oh,  no,  miss !  that  is  not  for  the  like  of  you 
to  do ;"  but  she  would  playfully  insist,  and  have  her  way. 

Her  attention  in  the  wards  was  constant.  With  her 
httle  Testament  in  her  hand  she  went  from  one  bedside 
to  another,  really  a  ministering  angel  to  all  there ; 
cheering  the  desponding,  encouraging  the  timid  and 
doubtful.  At  twilight  it  was  her  custom  to  sing  hymns 
in  the  ward,  and  long  after  she  had  left  us,  her  sweet 
voice  was  spoken  of  as  a  blessing  lost  by  the  sick  and 
suffering. 

She  was  with  us  but  one  short  month.  In  that  time 
a  call  was  made  for  ladies  of  experience  to  go  to  the 
front  after  the  dreadful  battles  beyond  Fredericksburg. 
Her  heart  responded  immediately  to  the  call,  and 
though  her  friends  opposed  it  on  the  score  of  her  deli- 
cate health,  she  decided  to  join  two  friends  who  ex- 
pected to  leave  in  three  days,  and  so  made  all  her  prep- 
arations; but  changes  in  the  field  hospitals  postponed 
their  going,  and  finally  the  necessity  passed,  and  again 
Margaret  talked  of  the  autumn,  when  she  would  be 
with  the  army. 

I  was  away  from  the  hospital  on  the  2d  o^  June,  but 
heard  that  Margaret  had  an  attack  of  erysipelas.  I  was 
quite  alarmed,  and  sent  to  Dr.  M.  to  know  if  it  would 
be  safe  to  bring  her  to  town.  He  approved,  and  I  went 
out  early  next  day,  and  was  glad  to  find  her  aunt  with 
her.  She  consented  to  be  removed,  and  on  the  3d  it 
was  my  privilege  to  bring  her  home  with  me.   She  was 


MARGARET    E.  BREI^KINRIDGE.  '.19 

not  considered  ill,  but  suffered  much  discomfort,  yet 
was  unselfish,  uncomplaining,  and  cheerful.  Her  face 
was  swollen,  and  so  disfigured  one  could  not  have  re- 
cognized her ;  she  jested  a  great  deal  about  it,  and  after 
a  day  or  two  was  in  bright  spirits. 

Then  came  news  of  the  fighting  before  Richmond, 
and  the  probability  that  Col.  Porter  had  fallen.  It  was 
thought  best  to  conceal  this  from  her,  and  I  shall  not 
soon  forget  how  painfully  her  joyousness  smote  upon 
our  hearts,  which  were  trembling  for  the  sorrow  which 
seemed  impending.  At  last  came  the  awful  certainty 
that  the  brother  whom  she  loved,  and  about  whose 
safety  she  had  been  solicitous  for  a  fortnight,  had  fallen 
in  the  terrible  struggle  at  Cold  Harbor,  fallen  nobly, 
leading  his  men  with  heroic  valor. 

This  blow  fell  upon  her  with  overwhelming  force. 
One  wild  cry  of  agony,  one  hour  of  unmitigated  sorrow, 
and  then  she  sweetly,  submissively  bowed  herself  to  the 
will  of  her  Heavenly  Father  and  was  still.  She  seemed 
more  of  heaven  than  earth  as  she  talked  over  her  past 
life,  and  the  discipline  she  had  passed  through,  praying 
earnestly  that  this  sorrow  might  be  sanctified  to  her  and 
to  those  more  closely  connected  with  the  departed.  I 
recollect  so  well  her  intense  longing  that  little  Peter, 
the  representative  of  her  darling  sister,  now  left  father- 
less, should  be  spared  for  a  life  of  honor  and  usefulness. 
We  only  had  her  with  us  a  few  days.  I  did  not  think 
she  was  strong  enough  to  bear  the  journey  and  the  ex- 
citement which  awaited  her  at  Baltimore,  but  she  was 
so  anxious  to  go  that  it  was  thought  best  she  should  do 
so.  I  little  thought,  when  I  parted  from  heT  in  the  car, 
that  on  earth  I  should  behold  her  face  no  more.     We 


100  MEMORIAL    OF 

talked  of  meeting  in  the  fall,  and  hoped  that  some  asso- 
ciation might  again  bring  us  together  as  in  the  past 
month.  Almost  her  last  words  to  me  were,  "I  feel  as 
if  my  life's  work  was  truly  to  begin  now."  Strangely 
indeed  were  these  words  fulfilled :  in  a  few  weeks  she 
had  begun  that  life  eternal  which  alone  is  the  true  life — 
no  more  labor,  no  more  sorrow,  no  more  discipline.  For 
her,  the  unspeakable  bliss  of  being  "forever  with  the 
Lord,''  whose  footsteps  she  had  so  closely  followed  on 
earth  :  for  us  is  left  the  fragrant  memory  of  her  many 
virtues,  and  the  sweet  example  of  her  daily  life :  "  she 
being  dead,  yet  speaketh." 

While  writing  this  note  I  have  been  interrupted  by  a 
visit  from  an  old  colored  woman  who  was  in  the  hos- 
pital last  spring.  I  asked  if  she  remembered  Miss 
Breckinridge  ?  She  looked  wonderingly  at  the  ques- 
tion, saying  emphatically : 

''I  never  could  forget  her,  she  was  so  good  to  old 
Sydney.  Why,  she  never  went  to  her  bed  without 
looking  in  on  me  to  see  how  I  was  getting  on.  Oh !  I 
never  saw  her  like.  She  used  to  sing  to  me  too  ;  now 
she  is  singing  Jesus'  praise  in  heaven.  She  was  my 
lady." 

Margaret  was  a  universal  favorite  with  the  officers, 
nurses,  patients,  and  lady  visitors,  and  many  a  tear  was 
shed  when  the  intelligence  of  her  death  reached  us.  I 
have  no  incidents  to  give,  but  wish  simply  to  express 
to  you  my  admiration  and  love  for  her  whom  you  have 
lost.  Affectionately,  

The  sad  events  related  in  this  letter — sick- 
ness, bereavement,  and  sorrow — followed   each 


MARGARET   E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  101 

other  in  quick  succession,  and  changed,  for  the 
time,  Miss  Breckinridge's  plans  of  usefuhiess. 
She  had  originally  intended  to  spend  the  close 
of  the  summer  at  Magara,  and  she  at  once  de- 
termined to  join  the  afflicted  family  of  Colonel 
Porter  at  Baltimore,  and  return  home  with  them, 
saying,  "I  can  do  more  good  at  Niagara  than 
anywhere  else  just  now."  It  was  by  a  kind 
Providence  that  her  brother  had  been  called  to 
the  East  on  business  at  that  time,  and  was  ready 
to  take  charge  of  her  on  the  journey,  and  in  a 
measure  to  relieve  the  anxiety  of  those  who 
feared  that  the  fatigue  and  excitement  would  be 
too  great  for  her  feeble  frame.  After  a  week's 
rest  in  Baltimore  at  the  house  of  a  kind  friend, 
she  accompanied  the  sad  party  to  Niagara,  and 
apparently  bore  the  journey  with  comfort  and 
safety;  but  the  night  after  her  arrival  at  the 
house  of  her  cousin,  Miss  Porter,  she  became 
alarmingly  ill,  and  lay  down,  never  to  rise  again 
from  her  couch  of  languor  and  weariness.  The 
exhaustion  of  her  system  was  so  complete,  that 
very  soon  hardly  a  vestige  remained  of  her  former 
vivacity  and  earnestness.  Though  desirous  of 
recovering  in  order  to  finish  her  w^orjc,  whicli 
she  felt  was  only  half  done,  yet  she  again  and 


102  MEMORIAL    OF 

again  said  that  she  did  not  fear  to  die,  and  was 
willing  to  leave  herself  entirely  in  God's  hands. 
Her  state  of  mind,  during  her  whole  sickness, 
seemed  to  be  expressed  in  a  remark  made  to  one 
who  was  bending  anxiously  over  her.  She  said 
quietly,  "Underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms;" 
and  there  she  rested  through  all  the  vicissitudes 
of  hope  and  discouragement  by  w^hich  those 
around  her  were  exercised.  For  more  than 
five  weeks  life  and  death  hung  trembling  in 
the  balance,  and  gave  opportunity  for  those 
unwearied  attentions  of  friends  and  physician 
which  can  never  be.  forgotten,  and  which,  if  it 
were  possible,  would  have  averted  the  stroke  of 
death.  But  it  could  not  be;  and  on  the  27th 
of  July  calmly  and  peacefully  her  spirit  passed 
away. 

It  had  always  been  the  earnest  desire  of  Miss 
Breckinridge  to  be  buried  at  Magara,  near  her 
sister;  and  she  had  requested  her  friends  that 
this  wish  might  be  gratified  whenever  her  death 
should  occur.  The  providence  of  God,  in  bring- 
ing her  to  that  place,  made  it  easy  to  fulfill  the 
request;  and  she  was  laid  in  the  cemetery,  by  the 
side  .of  those  whom  she  loved  so  well,  where  the 
neighboring  waters,  with  their  ceaseless  mono- 


MARGARET    E.  BRECKINRIDGE.  103 

tone,  sound  a  continual  dirge.  From  all  tlie 
neighborhood  were  assembled  those — kindred 
and  friends — who  had  known  and  loved  her 
when  she  so  often  dwelt  among  them;  and  with 
their  offerings  of  flowers  they  followed  her  to 
her  last  resting-place.  It  is  only  a  resting  place; 
for  she  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth,  and  waits  for 
the  angel's  call  to  wake  to  newness  of  life. 


